The Prophecy of The Four
by Morena Evensong
Summary: A prophecy is found. Two worlds, ignorant of each other, begin to overlap. A country, a world, is in crisis. Perhaps the Wizarding world shouldn't have underestimated Muggles. BSTV, ATS and HP Xover. AU for Deathly Hallows.
1. Chapter 1

Hello everyone!

This story takes place after Book 6 of HP and the season finale of Angel in the Buffyverse. Therefore it'll include characters and whatnot from HP,BTVS and Angel. And there will be **spoilers **for HBP!

It's **slightly AU** in that, well, I've had to shift the timelines a bit in order to be able to accomodate both universes in the same story. So, in otherwords, the story takes off after the Half Blood Prince, but it will take place in 2004, right after the season finale of Angel. Just thought I should point it out.

**WARNING**: There is a reason this fic is rated R. Basically it's for language and violence. I'm just letting you know this, because I will not be posting warnings at the beginning of every chapter. So I'm letting you know now.As a writer I like using the element of surprise. Therefore, this is the only warning you get.What I won't do is stick gore in for the sake ofhaving gore or go into unnecessary detail with regards to violence. Think Buffy and Angel and Death Eaters and you should be safe.

Disclaimer: I do not own anything except for the plot and the prophesy.

* * *

**The Prophesy of The Four**

**Chapter 1** - The Prophesy

In seven days created, in two shall be destroyed,

Three Ancient Ones gather: one forgotten, one found and one restored,

Two worlds meet and warriors must rise,

The Three are joined by a fourth, who alone the tale can tell.

Blindness gives sight; insanity, wisdom

- to see when black is white and white is black.

The Snake is not the king of beasts,

but the Lion cannot win.

* * *

"Oh wonderful," the tall brunette mumbled under her breath, "I knew it was too much to ask that my trip to England be for sight-seeing and shopping purposes only." 

"Giles!" she yelled. She pushed her chair back from the library table and turned around to face the door to the hall. "Giles!"

"Yes Dawn, what is it?" a male voice called back.

"I think I found another prophesy!"

"Ok, definitely not the welcome I had hoped for," a different male voice joked from the hallway.

Dawn Summers flew from her chair and dashed out of the Watcher's Council's library and into the hall.

"Xander!" she squealed in delight as she threw her arms around the dark-haired man's neck.

"Hey Dawn," the young man chuckled. He put down his suitcases and returned the hug.

"Hello Xander," said Rupert Giles, coming out of his study, "you're early."

"Yeah, we managed to wrap things up early."

"And how are things in Cleveland then?"

"Well, the building's all fixed up, slayers settled in, Hellmouth actin' all hellmouthy and Robin's decorated his office."

"And Faith?"

"Spending a couple extra days of quality time with Robin before she heads up to the land of Giles."

"I see."

"Ok, so that was my news. Now what's this about a prophesy?"

Both men looked at Dawn, who turned and ran back into the library. Moments later she was running back with a large tome in her arms. She handed it to Giles, who immediately began to study it. Xander read Dawn's translation over his shoulder.

"Hmmm. . . it's vague, makes no sense and speaks of doom. . . yup, definitely a prophesy," quipped Xander.

Giles shot Xander an annoyed look. Then he handed Dawn the book back.

"Yes, well, it doesn't seem to have any sort of indication as to when it's supposed to take place. . ."

"Come on G-man, since when do we ever find a prophesy that's not supposed to happen soon?" Xander asked.

"Yeah, it's never, like, 'this will take place in a hundred years', it's always next week," Dawn agreed.

"I wonder if the powers have anything to do with it?"

"Wouldn't surprise me."

Giles cleared this throat.

"Well, it seems to mention four Ancient Ones," he said. "Perhaps we should start there."

"But what about this whole snake and lion thing?" asked Dawn, pointing to that line of the prophesy.

"My question exactly," Xander agreed. "I mean, I may be a bit biased against snakes ever since my major turned into one and tried to eat me. . . but this last line doesn't sound at all good."

"I seems to indicate a battle of some sorts," Giles said thoughtfully, ignoring Dawn's muttered 'Gee, no kidding!'. "Although, it's hard to tell if it's between the Ancients and the warriors, or if its purely symbolic."

"Lovely," Dawn sighed. "So I guess I should cancel the shopping spree I had planned for tomorrow and get researching, huh?"

"Yes, I'm afraid so Dawn."

"Bummer."

"Hey, you don't suppose Illyria is one of those Ancient Ones?"

Dawn and Giles both looked at Xander in surprise. And confusion, in Dawn's case.

"Uhh, who's Illyria?" she asked.

"Some ancient demon god-king, who got resurrected by some insane followers of hers and took over Fred's body."

"Fred? As in Angel's Fred? I didn't know she was dead." Dawn's eyes filled with sadness.

"She is and now Illyria's walkin' around in her body. Quite creepy, actually."

"That's actually a very good suggestion Xander," Giles interrupted gently. "Where is Angel's group now, anyway? I'm afraid Faith's e-mail contained about three lines and wasn't very informative."

"Not much to say really; Faith's dream didn't really give us a whole lot of prep time, but we did get to L.A. in time for the final showdown between Angel, Spike, Illyria, Gunn and an entire demon army. Apart from the whole fighting and death thing, it was actually kinda cool. There was even a dragon. . ."

"Wait, did you just say Spike?" Dawn interrupted him.

Xander looked questioningly at Giles.

"You didn't tell her?"

"Umm, well. . . that is to say. . ."

"Tell me what!"

"Spike's alive. Or, well, as alive as he ever was anyway."

Dawn stared at him in shock.

"He-he's alive?" she asked quietly. "How?"

"The amulet Buffy gave him. It somehow got sent to Angel and when Angel opened it, Spike popped out. Apparently he was a ghost for a while until some ex-lawyer from Wolfram & Hart with an axe to grind made him corporeal."

"Why didn't he tell us he was alive?"

"Not sure. Though apparently Andrew knew about it."

"I'm going to kill the geek when I get back to Rome. Where is he now?"

"Somewhere in America."

"Huh?"

"Well, after the fight," Xander turned to Giles, "we buried Wes and Gunn and Angel took the next flight out of L.A. to join his wolfy girlfriend. Then Spike said he'd wander around the good ol' U.S. of A. for a while, 'till he came up with a better plan and Illyria decided to join him. Oh, and did you guys know Angel has a son?"

"Huh?"

"He what!"

* * *

The noise sounded familiar, not pleasant, but familiar. So was the smell. Except that for some reason, it felt wrong: there should've been a breeze, something to indicate they were outside. But beneath her, she could feel a smooth, wooden floor, so she was definitely inside. Her mouth felt incredibly dry, she needed to get some water. 

Slowly, she opened her eyes, wincing against the sudden light.

She was looking up at a beautifully ornate ceiling. It was made of a dark wood with snakes carved into it. Something told her she should probably be surprised the snakes were moving and hissing at each other, but she wasn't.

She tried to move, but none of her limbs would listen to her. She tried again with the same results. It was as if her body was frozen stiff, paralysed. Panic erupted in her mind. What if she had been in some accident and had managed to sever her spinal cord? What if she would never walk again? She was as good as a vegetable right now, except that she could hear and see and smell. But then again, she had never been a vegetable before, so maybe comatose people did sometimes think they saw what was going on around them. After all, if she was a vegetable, she'd be in a hospital bed and not in some big, fancy room with moving snakes on the ceiling. Then again, maybe she was dreaming.

She closed her eyes and took several deep breaths to calm herself. Then she opened them again and tried to take in as much of her surroundings as she could. It was in that moment that she realised the noise she was hearing was someone screaming in pain and the smell was sweat and flood. And fear.

A shadow feel over her.

"Well, it's about time you woke up," a husky female voice said. "You almost missed all the fun."

She took her eyes off the ceiling and looked up at the woman. The woman was grinning, while twirling some sort of stick between her fingers. Her clothes were strange, like something from a different time and place: long, black robes. She could've passed for a clergywoman, except that coupled with her long black hair and pale skin, she looked more like a vampire than a priest.

"You're going to die tonight, Muggle, along with the rest of your filthy Muggle friends."

Muggle? She'd heard that word before. But where? She could feel the answer taunting her just beyond her reach, where she couldn't reach it.

Suddenly she felt something wash over her, like a gentle breeze of energy. It dissolved the stiffness in her body and she could finally relax. Experimentally, she brought a hand up in front of her face.

"Lucius," the woman standing over her hissed.

"I do so prefer it when they try to run, don't you?" a very refined male voice asked. "Seems so much more sporting that way."

"Magic," she whispered to herself.

"I beg your pardon?" the man's amused voice asked.

She looked up into a pair of icy blue eyes. They belonged to a tall, aristocratic-looking man with long, blonde hair tied back in a ponytail.

"The ceiling," she answered him in a slightly hoarse voice, "is charmed to move with magic."

He looked as if he was seriously doubting her sanity. She slowly sat up and got her first glimpse of the room she had woken up in.

It was indeed a large room, probably a ballroom of some sorts. It felt like it belonged to some sort of old manor, or castle. The floors were made of polished oak and the walls were just as ornate as the ceiling, except there were dragons instead of snakes. However, the dragons had jewelled eyes and didn't move. One side of the room had a fireplace with dragons on either side of it painted in green, black and silver colours.

She noticed the room was filled with more people in black robes. They were clearly in charge. Everyone else in the room was dressed in normal, everyday clothes. Most of those were people she recognized; they had been with her in the pub when it was attacked.

It was Tim, the local butcher's, birthday and half the village had shown up to celebrate by getting him completely drunk. She had only been living in the village for a couple of years and normally would never have gone, but his wife personally invited her. So she went, not intending to stay for very long. She had never been one for drinking, as far as she could remember. What came before that, she didn't know.

She remembered the hairs on the back of her neck bristle. She felt something in her mind warning her of something. Then the doors to the pub smashed open and a group of black figures wearing white masks glided into the room. There were screams, crashes and shouting and suddenly everything went blank. Although it was not unusual, she was pretty sure that this time it was because she had been knocked unconscious.

She once again scanned the ballroom. She saw Elizabeth Harker, who taught math at the local school. One of the robed men pointed a stick at her and a yellow beam of light shot out of it and into her chest, encasing her body in what looked like a thin layer of yellowish gelatine. Elizabeth screamed in pain.

Lucius Malfoy and Bellatrix Lestrange watched as the girl sitting in front of them merely cocked her head in curiosity as she watched a woman, whom she obviously knew, being tortured. She didn't seem frightened or horrified, or even sad.

"Well, she's no fun," Bellatrix pouted. "They're supposed to scream."

They had picked up her and a handful of others during a raid on a small, Muggle village in Northern England. The Muggles had been in the middle of some sort of celebration when they attacked. Most of them they killed immediately, but a few were taken back to Malfoy Manor for some after-raid fun.

This particular girl had been knocked unconscious. The fact that she recognized that the ceiling was charmed was somewhat surprising. It was not, however, more shocking than finding out that not even their most powerful magic could bring her to consciousness when she was out cold.

Lucius placed the tip of his cane underneath her chin and turned her head to look up at him.

"What is your name girl?" he demanded.

"Th-they call me Angela," she answered. She had a slightly dazed look on her face.

"They call you that, do they? So it's not your real name then?"

The girl frowned. Lucius watched her closely, the villagers they tortured earlier had told an interesting story about her. It was the only reason he and Bellatrix hadn't already killed her out of boredom.

"It could be. I don't know. I can't remember, so I am called Angela until I do remember."

"I see. . ."

"Do you suppose it's a badly cast memory charm?" Bellatrix asked her brother-in-law.

"Possibly. She does seem to have some sort of magical background, even if she doesn't remember it."

Lucius pointed his wand at the girl. She stared at its tip in curiosity.

"Crucio."

Angela saw the yellowish light streak out of the wand and something told her she should move, but the light was too fast. It hit her in the stomach and lit every single one of her nerves on fire.

She screamed. Bellatrix giggle gleefully.

Angela had never realized her body had so many parts and that all of them could hurt so much. All she could think about was how much the pain hurt and how much she wanted it to stop. Her eyes were screwed shut as she grit her teeth against the pain, which only somewhat muffled her screams. Just as she honestly didn't think she could take any more, a bright light flashed behind her eyes.

The pain stopped and Angela relaxed. She was out of breath, and a bit sore, but pain-free.

"Aaw, Lucius, you're no fun!" Bellatrix whined. "That wasn't very long at all!"

"But I didn't. . . " Lucius began with a bewildered expression on his face, wand still pointing at his victim. Bellatrix frowned in confusion.

"You didn't what?"

Suddenly an ear-piercing scream filled the air. Angela's head snapped up. In a room full of screaming and moaning people, it was perhaps odd that this particular scream should attract her attention, but it did. And seconds later, she realized why. This scream was different; there was no pain in it, only sheer terror.

Turning towards the source, she saw it was Rachael, the mayor's secretary. Her eyes were wide as she scrambled backwards despite her obviously broken left arm. Beside her, Angela heard the tall, blonde man chuckle.

Then she caught sight of the same thing Rachael had and, for a moment, she forgot to breathe.

At one point in time, the thing might've been a man. It had the shape of a man, even if it was bald and slightly bent over, with skin so white it might as well have not been there at all. Only the somewhat human-shaped face was evidence that he wasn't a walking skeleton.

But the worst were his eyes. They were hideously red: not even a pretty, bright red, but a dark, menacing crimson. They seemed to glow from within the darkness of his hood. His eye whites were bloodshot, making the irises appear to be spilling out into the rest of the eyes.

He was staring, unblinking, directly at Rachael. A sinister smile appeared on his face, which only served to terrify the girl even more. By now others in the room had noticed the newcomer. However, no one else screamed. They were too petrified with fear to move.

"Well, well, what a pretty little Muggle," the creature said, gliding towards her.

If it was possible, his voice was even more frightening than his appearance. It was scratchy, but surprisingly high-pitched. It sounded like he had tasted death: like a zombie out of a bad horror movie. And as he approached Rachael, Angela was sure the short brunette was wishing this was just a horror movie. Or a nightmare. As long as she could wake up, or walk off the set.

Rachael had managed to back into a wall and looked like she was trying to push it out of the way. When the red-eyed creature came to stand directly in front of her, she froze. It bent down and touched the side of her trembling face with incredibly long, bony fingers.

She looked away, trembling. There were tears rolling down her cheeks. The thing chuckled, a shrill, slightly wheezy noise that made her whimper.

"So beautiful," it said, caressing the side of her face in a sort of mock gentleness. "Your fear is so intoxicating."

A quick flick of its wrist and Rachael cried out in pain, her left hand flying to her face. Seconds later she took her hand away to examine it. There was blood on it from the three gashes that now adorned her cheek. She was so preoccupied with the blood on her hands, she never even noticed the creature take out a thin stick and point it at her.

"Crucio," he whispered.

Rachael arched up and screamed. She continued screaming as her body convulsed and began to spasm. Suddenly, her breathing began to get very erratic and her eyes widened. Her screaming stopped, because she didn't seem capable of drawing a single breath. Her hands grasped at her chest as she gulped for breath, panic evident in her eyes, though her face was still twisted in agony.

Then the convulsing stopped and she wasn't gasping for breath anymore. Her body fell to the ground at the creature's feet, dull green eyes staring in Angela's direction.

"Finite Incantatem," Angela heard the creature whisper.

"Rachael? Oh my God, Rachael, say something!" cried out Dr. Michael Cummings, the town's pediatrician and Rachael's secret lover (secret to anyone who was blind, which, luckily for him, his wife was).

The creature lightly kicked the woman's head.

"Hmm. . . well, this is certainly different. I've never seen that curse kill before."

"You monster!" Michael yelled. "You killed her. . . she was such a sweet, warm woman. . .and you killed her! She had a weak heart. . .it couldn't take the stress. . . " He trailed off as tears welled up in his eyes.

"Silence!" it hissed at him.

Then it walked to where a huddle of robed figures in front of the doorway and began to hiss again. Only this time it was a loud string of hissing noises that almost sounded like a language. Angela didn't understand it, yet she somehow recognized that he was calling for someone. . .or something.

She wasn't kept waiting for long, because moments later a large snake slithered in through the massive doors.

All around her, people gasped at the sight, she heard a few whimpers on her left. In the right corner, someone screamed. She didn't even have to look to know it was Billy, the tall, burly fire chief. Everyone knew he was terrified of snakes.

The snake turned its head to look at him with piercing, yellow eyes. Its forked tongue darted in and out of its mouth, the creature's only movement. Angela stared at it. Its scales glistened in the light, which danced over the brown pattern. Its attention was focused solely on the trembling fire chief. Angela felt a pang of pity for him. It was his greatest fear, come alive.

The snake's master said something in that hissing voice again. Angela idly thought that if snakes had a language, then that was probably what it would sound like. The snake's eyes lit up. Then it lunged.

It stopped only inches in front of Billy's face, its tongue licking his face as it darted out. Billy's harsh, fast breathing echoed throughout the large room. By now the man was pushing himself against the wall so that he was as flat as he could possibly be, considering his significant beer belly. He looked like he was ready to climb the wall with his bare hands out of sheer terror.

The snake slowly opened its jaws, revealing long, sharp fangs. One of the fangs touched Billy's cheek.

Billy screamed.

It was a high-pitched, hysterical scream and it didn't stop until the monster before him lunged again and swallowed his head to the shoulders.

"Billy!"

"Noooo!"

Voices cried out and out of the corner of her eye, Angela saw someone faint. She didn't bother finding out who it was, however, as hysterical screams filled the room.

Angela looked back to the red-eyed creature. He was observing the panicked humans as his pet slowly devoured its victim. He nodded to the group of robed figures nearest to him.

The figures bowed in response and turned to the screaming townsfolk. They pointed wooden sticks at the crowd and suddenly bright lights shot out like laser beams from the tips of the sticks.

Not even a minute later, the room was deathly silent. Bodies lay haphazardly over the ground; some were dead, some only stunned. Several people were trying to scream, their mouths opening and closing, but no sound came out. Mrs. McInnis, the librarian, was soundlessly sobbing hysterically, while praying desperately to whatever higher being was willing to listen.

"I am delighted you all liked Nagini," the creature chuckled. "I must say she certainly has taken a liking to you."

"Who is that?" Angela asked Lucius and Bellatrix. Bellatrix snapped her head to look at her with an outraged expression, which slowly turned to a smug smirk.

"That is the Dark Lord," she whispered back proudly.

"The Dark Lord?"

It was then that the Dark Lord's eyes scanned the crowd and first noticed Angela standing between two of his favourite followers. He frowned.

"Lucius, Bella," he said, "I assume you have a good explanation as to why you are standing with a Muggle. A barely injured Muggle, I might add."

Angela noticed Lucius stiffen slightly. He glanced quickly at her and frowned. The Dark Lord was right, she was not exhibiting any signs of the Crutatious Curse. However, he knew better than to keep his master waiting, so he turned all his attention back to him.

"Of course we do, my Lord," he answered with a bow. Angela couldn't help but think about how much he looked like an aristocrat standing before a king. Bellatrix did not bother with such formalities.

"My Lord," she began, "we don't believe she is a Muggle."

For the second time that night, Angela wondered what a Muggle was. She gazed at the Dark Lord. The red-eyed man gave them a pointed look.

"So, you're saying she is a Mudblood then?" he asked.

"Um, well, we're not quite sure really. . ." Bellatrix now looked somewhat perplexed. Lucius jumped to her rescue.

"When we brought her here she was unconscious. However, all our attempts to revive her failed."

"Did you use dark magic?"

Lucius obviously found the question insulting, but he carefully made sure to keep all annoyance out of his voice when he answered.

"Of course my lord. I tried every single spell I could remember."

The Dark Lord's head turned to stare directly at Angela, red eyes boring into hers.

"My Lord, that is not everything," Lucius said after a few moments. He pointed his wand at Angela again and before she realized what he had in mind, a streak of yellow light hit her in the chest.

Her world exploded in pain. Every nerve in her body seemed to be suddenly filled with molten lava. She screamed.

The Dark Lord watched her fall to her knees. Then he turned to his minions with an annoyed look that seemed to ask if there was a point to their little exercise. The screaming stopped. He glanced at the girl to confirm she was no longer under the curse. Sure enough, she was now panting hard and slightly shaking, but wasn't in pain anymore.

"Lucius, I do know how the Crutatious works," he said. "If you're planning to show off your proficiency in it, you should at least leave it on for a while and not remove it so soon."

Lucius, whose wand was still pointed at the Muggle, smirked.

"Finite Incantato," he said. Bellatrix gasped. He turned to the Dark Lord, whose eyes had widened. "I hadn't removed it, milord."

The Dark Lord slowly turned his attention to the girl. She had stopped shaking and her breathing was returning to normal.

"She's already beginning to recover," Bellatrix stated. "I didn't think it was possible to counter the Unforgivables."

"All magic can be countered, Bella," the Dark Lord said quietly.

"But like this?" Lucius asked.

"No, not like this. I must confess I have never heard of anything like this. The Imperius can be countered with a strong mind, but the Crutatious. . . under such pain a living being cannot possibly think."

He took a step towards the girl in question. Angela looked up and saw him approaching her and shrunk away.

"Who are you?" he demanded.

"Angela," she answered nervously. She hated it when people asked her about herself; she had nothing to tell.

"It's not her real name," Lucius added and Angela cringed. "She does not, in fact, remember her true identity."

"She could be anyone," Bellatrix added, a touch of mischief in her voice.

The Dark Lord was now staring at her intently and Angela tried to escape the searing look, but she couldn't. Her eyes were trapped, unable to look away. Suddenly, she felt a tug on her mind and images began flying in front of her mind: memories. They whirled around so fast she couldn't quite make sense of what she was seeing even though she had lived it all.

She remembered waking up on Melinda's living room couch, the doctor arriving, the feeling of amazement and panic as she realized she had no idea where she was, or who she was. Then Melinda's kind face telling her they would call her Angela until she remembered her real name. Angela after the daughter she had lost two months ago to leukemia. The images sped up again: she was at Billy's birthday party and he was dancing on the table, trying to convince his wife to join him. Then she was in the bookshop, listening to the village priest, a sweet little man with the oddest taste in hats, wish her good luck at her new job. The picture spun around and she was in the church basement with a group of women learning self-defence. The tall, Japanese man who taught it was smiling at her, telling her she was a natural. There was a flash of an image of them kissing on the bridge that went over the stream at the edge of town.

More pictures flashed through her head, until they stopped.

There was an old man with a long, gray beard, wearing long, gray robes and a pointy gray hat. In his hand he held a staff. He was standing on some sort of bridge over a large, bottom-less pit. His face was lit up by the gigantic, flaming creature that stood before him. The old man struck his staff on the ground in front of him.

"You shall not pass!" he commanded.

"Yay, Gandalf!" a child's voice suddenly cried. The image shifted as she had evidently turned her head to look at Melissa's 14-year-old nephew, Andy. He was sitting on the edge of his seat, devouring the movie version of his favourite books with his eyes.

She suddenly felt annoyance and irritation wash over her, but couldn't figure out why.

The whirlwind of images began again. This time, it was even more frantic than before and she could barely distinguish one from the other. She strained to slow them down, willed them to become coherent. All of a sudden, everything exploded in a burst of bright colours. The colours were so bright, they were painful. And they kept getting brighter and brighter, until they were searing into her skull. In a flash, they melded together, turning into a bright, burning white.

Then the colour was gone and Angela realized she was kneeling on the ground, her head in her hands, screaming. Her head was pounding and she felt dizzy.

Lucius and Bellatrix ignored her and looked expectantly at the Dark Lord. For a while, their master said nothing as he looked at Angela thoughtfully.

"Interesting," he finally hissed, "she is telling the truth; she honestly cannot remember who she was before the Muggles found her. Yet I cannot find any evidence of a memory charm, or any sort of mind barriers."

"What does that mean, my Lord?" Bellatrix asked with a frown.

"It means, that either the charm cast on her is something entirely different than anything I have ever come across before, or she didn't exist until two years ago."

His most trusted minions stood in silent shock for a few moments.

"Lucius," he finally said, "look up some magic-inhibiting charms. While she doesn't seem capable of any wand magic, I am not taking that for granted."

He pointed his wand at Angela and mumbled something under his breath. A light blue light shot out of his wand and wound itself around her like a snake. Then it flashed and disappeared. Angela looked startled as she felt her body, trying to figure out where the light had gone.

"Oh, I'm afraid it's inside you now," the Dark Lord chuckled. She looked up at him. "It's a tracking charm. Now I will always know where you are. But please don't try to escape; I would so hate to have to hunt you down." He turned to Lucius. "Send her to the kitchens."

"My Lord?"

"She can serve us tea or something to that effect. She's definitely more pleasant to look at than those disgusting house elves. They're not even fun to torture."

With that, the Dark Lord left.

* * *

In another part of England, three dark figures stood inside an old, abandoned warehouse. To anyone else, the building would seem frightening and most would constantly be looking over their shoulders, watching the shadows for monsters. 

But the figures didn't seem bothered by the darkness, or the shadows. Possibly because they made the shadow monsters run in fear the moment they entered.

Dressed in long, black robes that hid their faces within the shade of large hoods, they themselves were barely visible, except for what was illuminated by pale moonlight, which entered the building through a few shattered windows.

"So the decision is final?" the tallest one asked.

"Yes, that is the best course of action," the figure standing next to him said. He only came to the tallest one's waist, being little over three feet tall, but his voice was impossibly deep. It resounded through the warehouse, making the shadow monsters tremble. "We will help the Dark Wizard without his knowledge until the time is right. Then we shall make ourselves known."

"And you're sure our companion is on her way?"

"She is not on her way yet, but she will be," the third figure answered. "She is far away, our message will take some time to reach her."

"Good."

"So, when shall we three meet again?" the third figure, a skinny and slightly hunched over man with a sliver of a beard hanging out from the darkness of his hood.

"In thunder, darkness or in rain?" the tall one continued.

"When the hurlyburly's done, when the battle's lost and –"

"Oh for Hell's sake!" the short figure snapped. "Will you two quit with the Shakespeare crap!"

His companions chucked. Then with a sudden gust of wind, all three of them were gone.

* * *

Hope you enjoyed that! Comments? Criticisms? Please review and let me know how I did.

Author's Note:

"So, when shall we three meet again?" - That line and the next two the figures quote is from Act I scene iof Shakespeare's MacBeth.


	2. Chapter 2

Thanks to everyone who reviewed this story. It makes me happy knowing people are enjoying this. I had fun reading everyone's theories about Angela. There were a few complaints that there was too much focus on her in the first chapter. . . well, I kinda liked that entire sequence hence why it was so long. However, you can rest assured that while she will never disappear into the four winds, she won't be the focus of the story either. The focus will remain on the HP and BTVS characters we all know and love. I will mention that there will be several OCs in this story, some more important, some less. And most of them will appear within the first 5 chapters or so.

Also, thank you to **LadySunflower**, my wonderful beta.

Disclaimer: I don't own most of this. Only small tidbits here and there, oh and the plot I suppose.

* * *

**The Prophesy of the Four**

**Chapter 2 **- Decisions and Discussions

He wasn't really sure what he'd expected. Maybe a cold, rainy day and a dark, desolate-looking ruin of what was once a lovely little house in the countryside. So perhaps it was therefore logical that the quiet stone pillar in the centre of a small, but colourful, flower garden came as a bit of a shock.

Harry Potter looked up at the sky, at the happy sun, the lazy clouds and a sky so blue he was sure no artist could ever capture its precise hue. Then he looked back over his shoulder at his two best friends. Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger smiled at him encouragingly. He smiled back, silently thanking them for their support.

He took a deep breath and walked up to the pillar.

It seemed to grow out of the flowerbed. Idly, Harry noticed there were several different varieties of lilies planted at its base. The pillar itself was perfectly round and made of a marble so white it shone in the sunlight and forced Harry to squint as he looked upon it. On its top stood a lion, jaws open wide in a silent roar.

At eye-level, there was an inscription engraved in gold:

_They fought and died  
so the world would be safe.  
So that Good may triumph over Evil.  
Tales of their courage, honour, loyalty and sacrifice  
the noble lion roars to the world,  
telling their story and of the defeat of  
He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named._

_October 31, 1981_

In much smaller print, a long list of names followed the main inscription. The first two were Lily and James Potter. Harry didn't look any further. He didn't need to. He didn't want to.

He reached out a hand and traced the names with his fingers.

"Hi mum, dad," he whispered. He paused. "Wow, I've dreamed of this moment, of being here for so long. . . but now that I'm actually here, I can't think of anything to say." He raked a hand through his hair. "I guess I miss you. I-I miss not having known you. Everyone tells me you were wonderful people and I wish I could've met you at least once. I would have liked to have grown up with you. And Sirius. I don't think Sirius's name is on this thing, but it should be. He's dead, you know. But then he's probably with you, wherever you are. Which means you probably also know that Dumbledore's dead too. I can't believe he's gone. Do you think it's bad that I find it even more incredible than Sirius's death? He-he just seemed to be immortal, like nothing could touch him. But it did."

Harry wiped away the tears that were starting to blind him. He chuckled dryly.

"I've pictured coming here, to see this place so many times and I always thought I would fall apart and cry because you're gone. And here I am crying for others."

And so the words continued to flow as the champion of the Wizarding World rambled in front of the memorial that was his parent's grave. He mentioned school, his friends, his frustration at being called The Chosen One, and his annoyance at the ministry and Daily Prophet.

Finally, the words stopped and Harry just stood there, staring at the golden letters on white marble. Then he looked down at the flowers. They swayed slightly in the breeze.

Harry smiled and thought how appropriate the relatively simple memorial was. He wondered if Dumbledore had anything to do with it. Looking back to his parent's names, he brought the fingers of his right hand to his lips and kissed them. Then he traced the names one last time.

"I should go, my friends are waiting for me," he said. "I love you."

His hand dropped to his side and he walked away to where Ron and Hermione were waiting for him.

The two of them were sitting on a large rock and having a whispered conversation between themselves. Hermione was the first to see him. She jumped up with a smile.

"Harry, how'd it go?" she asked immediately.

Harry looked back at the pillar. The lion on top was much more visible from the distance. He smiled and then turned back to her.

"I think it went well," he said softly. "I'm glad I came."

"That's good mate," Ron said.

"So, what are you going to do now?" Hermione asked as the group turned to walk away to where their portkey was waiting for them.

"What do you mean what is he going to do now!" Ron exclaimed. "Now he's going over to the Burrow so he can help us get ready for Bill's wedding!"

Hermione rolled her eyes.

"I mean apart from the wedding," she said. Harry chuckled.

"I'll have to talk to Professor McGonagall, but I think I'd like to go to Hogwarts for a while. . . to look through Professor Dumbledore's stuff," Harry said. "He's been doing research about Voldemort for years. Maybe he had other leads he didn't tell me about."

"I think that's a good idea Harry," Hermione agreed. "Plus, access to the Hogwarts library will be very good to have when we need to do research of our own."

Harry stopped short.

"We?"

"Well, of course 'we'," the bushy-haired girl didn't even bother to stop walking. Ron turned his head to look back at Harry.

"You thought we weren't serious when we told you we were coming with you?" he smirked over his shoulder as he continued walking with Hermione.

Harry grinned. He had been terrified of having to search for Horocruxes on his own. Truth be told, he hadn't even known where to start.

He ran to catch up with his friends.

"Thanks guys," he said.

"Well here it is," Hermione announced, picking up a half-deflated basketball. The boys put their hands on it and they waited for it to activate.

* * *

Dawn took another sip of her coke as she looked at her watch for the fifth time in the last 10 minutes. She groaned. Then her eyes once more swept around the now all-too-familiar ground floor of Heathrow Airport's Terminal One. For a minute she considered going back and perusing the shops again, but the thought alone was enough to make her feel exhausted. There was a Cosmopolitan magazine sticking out of the corner of her large green purse, its corners twisted and bent back from being unceremoniously stuffed inside after Dawn finished reading it. 

She remembered arriving in London last week and thinking how nice Heathrow looked. Nothing spectacular, but it was neat and clean. The shops had some interesting, if overpriced, items.

However, all airports lost their charms after you've sat in them for two hours.

Dawn sighed and looked up at the arrivals board. The plane was due to arrive in 10 minutes. She silently prayed the time didn't get changed again; twice was more than enough in her opinion. She glanced at the bench by the window, where Lori was sleeping soundly, feeling envious of the woman's ability to fall asleep wherever she happened to be.

Dawn wasn't quite sure how Giles had managed to dig up the woman, but after a week of research, she was glad he had. Lori Stravinsky was slightly older than Giles and, if it was possible, even more of a bookworm. Unlike Giles, her knowledge of demonology was somewhat limited, but she easily surpassed the Head of the Watcher's Council in mythology. And she actually did speak Mandarin. Neither of the watchers were particularly open about Lori's past, but from what Dawn had managed to piece together, Lori had trained as a watcher but then left the Council in her mid-twenties to get married and have children. She was now divorced, but the only thing Dawn knew about that, was that it was fairly recent. Which could explain why she was willing to leave her comfortable job as professor of mythology at some French university in order to help build a new Watcher's Council.

Dawn looked back at her watch. Five minutes to go. She walked over to Lori and gently shook her. Nothing happened. Then Lori began to stir and yawned loudly as she brought a hand to her face and rubbed her eyes.

"What is it Dawn?" she asked sleepily. She stretched, her back arching off the bench. "Is the plane here yet."

"Not quite, but almost," Dawn answered. "Unless they decide to change it again at the very last minute."

"How much time do we have left?"

"A couple of minutes."

"Oh, we're safe then." Lori stood up and straightened her denim jacket. "I'll just go get us a trolley, it'll help wake me up. You stay here and watch for Faith."

"Sure thing."

She watched Lori walk off towards the trolley stands, her shoulder-length blond hair swaying from side to side. Dawn shook her head and smiled. Sometimes it seemed like the woman had unlimited energy, which made her ability to sleep anywhere even more impressive. She was tall and skinny, but didn't look frail. On the contrary, her eyes shone with excitement even after spending hours digging through the dusty old tomes in the library. And she could swing a sword with the best of them.

Dawn remembered how two days ago she had described Lori in an e-mail to Buffy as a cross between a strict, university professor, a kind old lady and a kung fu fighter.

_Attention ladies and gentlement, British Airways flight D603 from New York, regular arrival time 14: 25, has just arrived at Gate E. _

"About damn time," Dawn mumbled under her breath.

Lori arrived back with a trolley and the two of them anxiously watched the crowds for signs of the dark-haired slayer. Sure enough, about 20 minutes later they saw Faith weave her way through the crowd, a gorgeous Latino man with long hair and an elaborate crucifix around his neck watching her with hungry eyes as she flirted with him.

Dawn rolled her eyes. Trust Faith to manage to hook up with someone on a cramped plane. Faith meanwhile flicked her hair back, briefly exposing the bare flesh of her neck. While the action may have looked accidental, Dawn knew it was anything but. It was calculated and completely intentional. Wearing tight black jeans and a low-cut dark blue tank top, Faith walked with an air of confidence that spoke of strength and danger.

Like she knew she was the sexiest thing walking off that plane.

"Let me guess, the one who looks like she came into town for a shag?" Lori whispered into Dawn's ear. Dawn's eyes widened before she grinned.

"Yup, that's our Faith," she said. Then she waved at Faith as the dark slayer made eye contact. Faith grinned widely and waved back. She gave the Latino guy a quick peck on the cheek and walked off towards Dawn and Lori without looking back.

"Yo D, good to see yah again," Faith said. She looked at Lori, then back at Dawn, eyebrow raised in question.

"Hey Faith," Dawn said and then gestured to the woman beside her. "This is Lori, she's our newest watcher. Lori, Faith."

"Hello Faith," Lori said, extending her hand. "I've heard a lot about you. You're quite the legend."

Faith smirked.

"Hey, I've stopped killing people, but if my rep stops people from messin' with me, then it's all good." She paused for a moment. "Well, except for the demons, 'cause yo, there's nothing better to blow off steam than sockin' it to a couple of nasties."

Lori laughed.

"I guess that's why you're a slayer," she said.

"Probably."

"So, do you have a lot of stuff?" Dawn asked.

"Nah, just one bag. I had to leave most of my stuff behind, what with this whole post 9/11 security shit. What's the world comin' to when a girl can't even take her favourite sword with her?"

"And by sword you mean personal arsenal, right?"

Faith's grinned at Dawn.

"Well, Rupert had mentioned something about the old Council owning several private jets. . ." Lori began thoughtfully.

"Private jets?" Dawn asked.

"I kinda like the sound of that."

Lori smiled.

"Ok, now about that luggage. . ."

A little while later, the three of them were making their way across the Heathrow parking lot towards the Council's Mercedes.

The car was a memory of the old Watcher's Council. As it turned out, Caleb had blown up the main building of the organization's headquarters, but the council had owned some smaller buildings all over London, mostly on the outskirts. Among the buildings that had survived were several warehouses, a small housing unit that included a hospital and detention area in the basement, and a garage. Not all of the cars were expensive luxury cars, however, in fact most of them were quite plain. And, surprisingly enough, the Mercedes was the only black car.

"Woah, if the council had money to blow on shit like this, then why was I living in a dingy motel room when I first came to Sunnydale?" Faith asked.

"Yeah, Giles says one of the most annoying and exciting things about putting the Watcher's Council back together is digging up all the resources the old one had," Dawn commented.

"Just wait 'till you see the new headquarters," Lori said happily. "Then you'll really wishing you could get your hands on Quentin Travers. Or more specifically Jonathan Edwards, who used to oversee the Council's finances."

Faith chuckled. At the moment, life was too good for her to worry about the idiots who had tried to have her killed more than once. She ran her hand over the smooth surface of the car, she'd never been inside a car that looked so clean and shiny before.

Lori unlocked the doors. Faith closed her eyes for a moment as a warm breeze blew through her hair. She frowned.

She opened her eyes and looked around. There was nothing out of the ordinary. In the distance she could see dark clouds littering the sky.

She looked around again, straining her slayer senses to take in every single detail of the scene before her. Of all people, Faith knew she wasn't at all well traveled and that most of her limited travel experience consisted of hitchhiking or hiding in the backs of trucks, but this just seemed wrong. Airports were supposed to be full of happy reunions between family or friends, excitement at arriving somewhere unknown and unexplored, or at the very least pleasure of finally being able to stretch your legs after being confined to a small space for several hours.

But she didn't see any of that here. People were hunched down, as if carrying an invisible burden on their shoulders. Their expressions held shadows and few smiles.

"Faith!"

"Yeah, what?" Faith looked over to Dawn. The tall brunette looked slightly concerned.

"That's the third time I've called you, is something wrong?"

"I-I'm not sure, really. . . do you notice anything strange around here?"

Dawn's eyes widened.

"Strange, as in demonic strangeness?"

"I'm not really sure D, but there's somethin' odd about this place. I mean, everyone looks like they're chronically depressed or somethin'."

"Huh. Well, maybe it's contagious, 'cause Giles has been down in the dumps lately too. But that just might be him being British in his natural environment. A lot of the people I've talked to here have been grumpy and rude. I remember I got a headache after I got here, but Xander's had no problem."

"Hm. It almost feels kinda familiar. Like. . . " Faith's eyes widened as she shot a glance to Dawn. ". . .like Sunnydale. But not. 'Cause people in Sunnydale looked more. . . normal, if that's possible." Faith frowned.

Dawn shook her head.

"No, it can't be like Sunnydale. There's no hellmouth here, Giles checked."

"Not to mention that the Watcher's Council has been here for over 500 years and they would've noticed if there was a hellmouth in this city," Lori interrupted them. "Now, if you two wouldn't mind getting in the car, I do believe we have a prophesy to research."

"Prophesy?" Faith asked. "Huh? When did this happen?"

"Last week," Dawn answered as they all got into the car. "I found it while I was going through a random book in the library."

"Yo, I thought you were here on vacation; what were you doin' looking through books?"

"I just-I. . . oh, nevermind. Anyway, it's really weird and not even Giles has had any luck figuring out what it means. Except that there's going to be a battle of some sort that could result in the end of the world."

"Great! I mean about the whole battle part, not the end of the world part."

Dawn rolled her eyes.

* * *

He watched the girl place the tray carefully on the table. Her dark, wavy hair was tied back in a pony-tail that ended just below her shoulders. She didn't look up as she poured out the tea into bone china cups. The whole set was one of many Malfoy family heirlooms; this particular one was gold-plated with small, green snakes slithering around on it. She poured a bit of cream into one of the cups and handed it to him. 

Lucius accepted the cup and took a small sip. Perfect, just the right amount of cream. He was truly amazed at how well the girl had adapted to being a domestic servant and he really had no choice but to admit the Dark Lord could be absolutely brilliant sometimes. And yes, she was definitely nicer to look at than the house elves. Too bad she was a muggle. . .

Lucius smirked to himself. Maybe she wasn't

He looked to his companion as the man took an offered cup of tea, no cream, no sugar. Severus Snape had only arrived at the manor with Draco last night. This was his first glimpse of the strange girl he had undoubtedly heard of from the others in the manor. His eyes were lowered and he appeared to be looking at his tea. Lucius, however, had known Severus for long enough to know his friend was actually watching the girl's every move out of the corner of his eye.

"Is there anything else you wish, my Lord?" Angela asked with a slight bow. Her eyes were lowered in a gesture of subservience.

"No, that will be all for now," he dismissed her with a wave. She nodded and left the room, silently closing the door behind her.

Lucius turned his attention to Severus, who was looking at him with a raised eyebrow.

"So that was the mysterious Angela?" he finally asked. "She does not appear the least bit interesting."

"Aaah, but Severus, appearances can often be deceiving," Lucius drawled back. Severus's eyes narrowed, as if trying to interpret just how the comment had been meant.

"Indeed, they can be."

"Besides, the Dark Lord thinks she merits further observation."

"So I've heard. She could be a spy."

Lucius snorted. "If she is, then I don't know what use she'd be to anyone; she doesn't even know who she is. And if she is a spy, all the more reason to keep her, unravel her secrets. . ."

"You mean figure out how she can fight the cruciatis."

"Of course. If Dumbledore's people have figured that out, then we need to know. Not that I think they have. . . You know, I'm not sure she's from England at all. Her accent is all wrong."

"She looks a bit like your sister-in-law, only more sane."

Lucius sent Severus a glare, warning him not to continue that train of thought. At least not out loud.

"Speaking of my family, how's my son?"

"Draco is doing just fine, for the moment. He is nervous, of course, but seems to have calmed down considerably since the events at the school. Narcissa is with him at the moment, I believe."

Lucius scowled and set his empty teacup on the mahogany side table next to his armchair.

"Yes, events at the school. . . I've heard about that particular disaster. That disgusting fleabag Greyback was quite vocal about it."

"Disaster? Draco accomplished his mission, I'd hardly call that a-"

"He was supposed to kill Dumbledore! But then he let his nerves and emotions get the better of him. You had to kill the old man for him!" Lucius's left hand was clenched in a tight fist.

"He did manage to get the death eaters into Hogwarts and many thought that would be an impossible task."

"He should not have needed the death eaters! He was supposed to have taken care of it himself!"

Severus Snape said nothing. He merely finished his tea and set the cup down on the table next to Lucius's discarded one. Then he sat back in the black, leather armchair, folding his arms across his chest and watched Lucius for a moment.

A few moments later, his deep baritone reverberated in the room.

"Perhaps, the boy has inherited much more from Narcissa than we previously thought," he said.

Lucius shot him a venomous glare.

* * *

Two flights up and in the opposite wing of the castle, in a bedroom that was at least twice the size of most people's living room, a boy and his mother sat on top of a large, oak canopy bed. At the moment, they were talking; the tearful, happy reunion full of tight embraces and gentle, reassuring touches had long passed. Their words were nothing important, the tale of events at Hogwarts had already been told. 

They were talking about quidditch. Lady Malfoy loved the game, it was her enthusiasm for the game and not her husband's that had kindled Draco's passion for it. Being on the run for a month, meant that Draco had missed several games of the World Quidditch Cup. Narcissa was in the middle of a particularly engaging retelling of the game between Hungary and France.

". . . then Krum zooms right past the French keeper, which of course breaks his concentration and at the exact same moment, Slezsky zooms in with the quaffle and scores!" Narcissa said, her son hanging on every word.

"Wow, what a brilliant move!" Draco said in awe. Narcissa nodded with a smile.

"Anyway, then France's seeker sees the snitch. . ."

Both jumped as the bedroom door banged open. A figure in black robes walked into the room, red eyes immediately finding the two figures sitting on top of green silk sheets. Behind him, two death eaters loomed menacingly.

Narcissa was the first of the two to react. With the fluid grace of a true lady, the fair-skinned woman got off the bed and took a few steps away from it. Using her left hand to slightly lift up part of her robes, she curtsied, her head bowed.

"My Lord," she said.

Draco's eyes widened slightly at the sight of the Dark Lord. He followed his mother's example and hopped off the bed, getting down on one knee as he knelt before the most powerful dark wizard in the world.

"My Lord," he said, sounding much calmer than he felt.

"Young Mister Malfoy, I had heard you were back," the Dark Lord said in a low voice that washed Draco in a tide of dread. He couldn't quite mask the shiver that ran through his body when he heard it. He didn't dare look up.

"Please escort Lady Malfoy to the sitting room where her husband is having tea."

Draco's eyes snapped at the order and watched as the two death eaters walked up to his mother. She looked over at her son and gave him an encouraging half-smile. Unfortunately, it didn't quite hide the alarm in her eyes.

During the time it took her to straighten up to her full height, the concerned mother was gone and Lady Malfoy had taken her place. She shot both masked men a hard look, as if daring them to touch her. Then she led the way out of the room.

Draco watched her go, barely restraining himself from jumping up and running after them.

"Oh don't worry, she won't be harmed," the Dark Lord chuckled. "If I had wanted to hurt her I would've done so here, where you could watch."

A sense of relief washed over Draco, even as he shivered at the Dark Lord's statement.

"Thank you, my Lord," he whispered.

"Rise, Draco Malfoy."

Slowly, Draco got to his feet, his eyes looking steadfastly at the floor. He took a deep breath and brought himself proudly to full height. With the mantra "I am a Malfoy" running through his head, he looked the Dark Lord in the eye without flinching.

The red-eyed wizard chuckled, but there was very little amusement in his eyes. He took a few steps towards Draco.

"I heard the mission was accomplished," he began. "I have also heard it was not accomplished by you."

For the first time in his life, Draco knew the meaning of the phrase "his blood ran cold". He could feel himself begin to sweat.

"My Lord, I-I. . "

"Silence! I do care about your excuses." Draco's mouth snapped shut. The Dark Lord smirked. "You had the old man defenceless and at your mercy, yet Severus Snape had to kill him for you. That is unacceptable!"

He paused. Draco had never realized how loud complete silence could be. He wished he could stop trembling. Finally, the Dark Lord continued.

"However, I would be lying if I said your method for getting my death eaters into Hogwarts was anything short of ingenious." Draco breathed a sigh of relief. Then he heard a dry chuckle. "Yes, you should be relieved. Your brilliant scheme is the only reason I've decided to keep you alive."

Another pause. Draco's eyes widened when he noticed a wand suddenly appear in the Dark Lord's hand.

"Next time, be sure to follow my instructions to the letter. _Crucio_."

* * *

Harry didn't think he'd ever seen anything more beautiful than Ginny in bridesmaid's robes. Dark teal fabric swirling around her ankles as the breeze lifted it up went beautifully with her fair skin and long, red hair that was held up with little, pink rosebuds and teal ribbon. And then she looked at him and smiled such a sweet smile, that he almost missed the sadness in her eyes. Almost. 

Bill and Fleur got married at the Burrow. In the same space usually used for impromptu quidditch matches, sat several rows of wooden chairs, divided in half by an aisle wide enough for two people to walk through. Gold-coloured bowls filled with flowers were suspended above their heads, like the candles in the Great Hall during a Sorting ceremony. On the left hand side of the area were two long tables side by side. A four-tiered wedding cake stood surrounded by red roses in the middle of the one closest to the altar.

Harry had never been to a wedding before, but he found the whole experience magical. Bill clasped Fleur's hand and looked deeply into her eyes. Fleur smiled up at him. They didn't seem to notice the people they stood in front of, lost in the world they saw in each other's eyes. Silence surrounded them, until Bill finally spoke.

"Fleur Delacour, you are the most wonderful creature I have ever met. You are the sunshine of my days and the star of my night. I, William Arthur Weasley, pledge to love and honour you for the rest of my natural life."

"Bill Weasley, I knew you were special from the moment I saw you at the Triwizard Tournament. But only in my dreams did I ever think you would actually be the man to steal my heart. I, Fleur Delacour, pledge to love and honour you for the rest of my natural life."

There was a slight pause and then Bill looked up and nodded to his brother, Charlie, who was standing to the side. Charlie smiled and took his wand out, moving towards the couple. He placed the tip of his wand on their entwined hands.

"I, Charles Alexander Weasley, hereby witness your pledges and wish you love and happiness for the rest of your natural lives. May you prove faithful to your bond."

Then Charlie whispered an incantation Harry didn't catch. Almost instantly a brilliant white ribbon of light emerged from the tip of his wand and wound itself around Bill and Fleur's clasped hands. It encased their hands in a cocoon of light, which was almost blinding even in the daylight. Slowly, the light seemed to dim as it merged with their bodies. Fleur and Bill closed their eyes, identically content smiles gracing their features.

Then the light was gone and the newly weds opened their eyes and looked at each other once again. Charlie removed his wand and stepped back. Bill brought his other hand up to caress Fleur's cheek before leaning in to kiss her.

The silence was shattered by applause, a few wolf whistles and shouting. Instantly, the couple was surrounded by their families. Harry didn't join them, but thoughtfully watched Ginny from afar as she hugged Bill as if her life depended on it and then somewhat reluctantly hugged her new sister-in-law.

The wedding reception was anything but a quiet, subdued affair. In fact boisterous would be a rather accurate description. Not many people showed up, fear keeping most of them at home where they felt slightly safer. But everyone who attended was immediately caught up in the Weasley-style celebrations. Soon they found themselves talking animatedly, dancing, or laughing as the person next to them at the buffet happened to bite into a canary cream and then spent the next 10 minutes trying to spy the Weasley Twins from the air.

The jovial, seemingly carefree atmosphere was due entirely to Molly Weasley, who was determined that her first-born's wedding would not be ruined by "some daft war". At some point in time during the party, Harry came across Remus accusing her of putting a cheering potion in the punch. Mrs. Weasley never got the chance to answer him, because just then Tonks grabbed the werewolf and with a quick apology, spirited him away to the dance floor.

Most of the key members of the Order of the Phoenix had shown up, along with Fleur's family (who were vastly outnumbered by Bill's family) and a few old schoolmates of both.

It was well past midnight, when Harry excused himself from his friends to search for Professor McGonagall. He found her sitting on the Weasley's back porch, looking up at the stars.

"Professor McGonagall?" he asked as way of announcing himself. The new headmistress turned her head slightly to take a look at him.

"Mr. Potter, what brings you out here?" she asked.

"I was looking for you, Professor."

"It would seem that you have successfully found me. Now what?" There was a hint of amusement in the headmistress's voice.

"Um.. . well, I was rather. . . uh. . . wondering if it would be possible for myself, Ron and Hermione to spend the rest of the summer at Hogwarts. Before Professor Dumbledore d-before he fell, h-he thought he had figured out a way to defeat Voldemort. Or at least had an idea of how to go about it. But well, I don't really know where to start and I was thinking that maybe if I could take a look through his stuff I might find something."

"Does this "idea" have anything to do with why the two of you were out that night?"

"Er, well, yes it does."

"Are you going to tell me what it is?"

A pregnant pause followed her question during which Harry tried to figure out just how to say what he had to in the most polite way possible. In the end he settled for the direct approach.

"I'm sorry, professor, but Professor Dumbledore didn't want me to tell the Order and, although I don't quite understand why, I'm sure he had his reasons for it. Perhaps when I've had a chance to look at his notes, I'll understand why."

McGonagall nodded.

"Yes, Albus always did have his own little schemes going on that he refused to tell anyone about. Little wonder he always got along so well with Alastor Moody."

Harry held his breath as he waited for her response. A cool breeze ruffled his hair, blowing strands into his face. He brushed it back with a sweaty hand. Then his former head of house stood up and walked down the steps to where he was standing.

"Very well Harry, " she said. "You and your friends may stay at Hogwarts during the summer holidays." Harry grinned widely. "Under three conditions: one, members of the Order will check in on you at regular intervals, two, you will respect school property even though your teachers are not present and three, you promise not to do anything daft such as running off to face You-Know-Who on your own."

Harry nodded and refrained from mentioning how it was usually Voldemort who found him and not the other way around.

"Yes professor, I promise."

The Transfigurations professor smiled at him fondly.

"Regardless of what Dumbledore told you, do remember that we're on your side. If you need help with anything, if you get in over your heads, owl us. You aren't the only one fighting this war you know."

Harry returned her smile. "Yes, I know professor. Thank you, we will keep that in mind."

"Good. We'll discuss the particulars with Molly in the- Misters Weasley! What do you think you're doing to that punch!"

Harry turned and looked to the buffet table, where Fred and George were frozen over the punchbowl, looking like a pair of innocent deer caught in very bright headlights. Unfortunately for them, the unstopped vial one of them was holding above the punchbowl took away any semblance of innocence.

It took exactly 30 seconds for Molly Weasley to assess the situation, become red in the face, somehow appear behind them and grab both hooligans by the ear.

Everyone who had spent part of the wedding reception as a canary rubbed their hands with glee.

* * *

Well, hope everyone enjoyed that. Please review and let me know if I'm doing things right. 

Oh, and yes, before everyone asks, Lori is definitely an OC. I needed a second watcher for a later chapter and decided to introduce her now instead of wasting time later when the action actually starts. Plus, halfway through writing, I suddenly realized that Dawn probably wouldn't have a driver's license in the UK and therefore couldn't drive to the airport alone to pick up Faith.

Also, my image of Heathrow airport was pieced together through internet research, a conversation with a friend who's been there and my own one-time experience, so I apologize if it's a bit imprecise. Please let me know if there are any glaring errors though.


	3. Chapter 3

Hmm. . . this chapter kinda ran away on me. I think it's the longest thing I've ever written. I hope you all enjoy it!

Thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter. And to my wonderful betas LadySunflower and Avocado Farmer.

Disclaimer: Anything that you recognize, I don't own.

* * *

**The Prophesy of the Four**

**Chapter 3** - Discoveries

"The humans in this city are even worse muck than those in that place called Los Angeles."

Spike didn't say anything as he watched the terrified would-be thief run out of the alley with a haunted expression. Like he'd seen a ghost. Or, more to the point, like he'd tried to rob a defenceless woman, who turned out to be an ancient demon god king.

"We will journey on soon. This city depresses me."

Spike turned his head to look at his companion and raised an eyebrow.

"What exactly do you find depressing?" he asked.

"It depresses me to think that my kin were defeated by such pathetic creatures."

Illyria didn't even bother glancing in his direction. She stood in the middle of the New York alley, in the exact spot she had held the simpering thief by his neck, demanding to know how he dared presume to threaten her. Honestly, Spike was surprised she hadn't just snapped his neck.

"Well, he wasn't one of the ones who defeated your kin, now was he?"

Illyria didn't answer him, already bored with the conversation. Instead she turned her back on the blond vampire and walked further down the alley.

Spike cursed under his breath and followed after her. He caught up to her easily. Whatever had managed to catch the demon god's attention apparently wasn't all that important, because she was moving at a pace Spike could easily keep up with. Spike glanced at Illyria and noticed the intensity in her eyes.

He gripped the hilt of his sword with his left hand as they walked through an empty parking lot. Anything that caught Illyria's attention like that would probably end with blood, bruises and broken bones.

Spike grinned. He couldn't wait.

* * *

To the Death Eaters, Lord Voldemort was a truly enigmatic figure: powerful, terrifying and awe-inspiring all at once. He was a natural leader and as such knew exactly what to say and do to maintain the devotion of his followers.

Despite having nothing but the deepest respect for their leader and complete loyalty to his cause, the five Death Eaters currently trudging through Malfoy Manor were thinking nothing of the sort. Having been woken up at 7 am by their Dark Marks, their only thought an hour later was: "Does the blasted man _ever_ sleep!"

Voldemort sat on the high back mahogany chair he liked to think of as his throne and watched them saunter in. He frowned when the third man walked in with his mask upside down and looked at the clock on the mantle. He blinked. He hadn't realized it was so early.

"Good morning everyone," he said with a smile that made the red in his eyes glitter. They all stiffened. "Oh no, don't worry, you haven't displeased me. Yet." He paused. "I have a mission for you. However you do not have to leave immediately. You may enjoy today with your families. . . it is Sunday after all."

There was a chorus of "Thank you, my Lord". The Dark Lord leaned back and gestured to the chairs around the room.

"Please, sit, make yourselves comfortable." He waited until they'd all sat down. "Now then, has any of you heard of the Gem of Amara? No? Well then, let me tell you a story. . ."

* * *

Not for a second did Illyria waver. She didn't know New York at all, but apparently her ancient demon senses were telling her exactly which way to go. She led the way through alley after alley, not once coming upon a dead end. It was almost 3:30 am and the only humans they passed were a few homeless people, huddled together despite the warm night, and a group of young men - children - who, Spike thought to himself, should've been home in bed, or at least causing some sort of ruckus.

One of the older boys, a dark-skinned youth with short, dark blue spiked hair, watched them pass. There was a hard warning on his face as he eyed them with suspicion, but he said and did nothing. Everyone else ignored them.

Spike liked to think it was because the two of them looked too dangerous to approach.

Half an hour later, Spike was starting to get truly annoyed. He didn't mind hunting things, in fact being a vampire, he enjoyed it. However, this mindless goose-chase was getting a bit ridiculous.

"Oi, do you actually know where you're going?" he finally asked Illyria. "Or what you're looking for?"

"There is strange magic coming from this area," Illyria answered without slackening her pace. "I remember it from before, but it was different then."

"Great, so we're chasing after some weird magic that could be anything." Spike rolled his eyes. "There'd better at least be something I can kill," he muttered under his breath.

Finally he heard them. Voices talking in low tones. The wind blew in his direction and he smelt them as well. Demons. Humans. Magic. But Illyria was right, this wasn't demonic magic and it wasn't the regular kind that smelt of elements and the Earth. It felt dark, no: tainted. As if the darkness came from the caster, not the spell.

Suddenly Illyria stopped and pressed herself to the side of the factory beside her. Spike followed her movements, crouching down in the shadows, feeling them wrap around his form. He looked into the loading yard of the factory and frowned.

He couldn't see anything. Oh, he could hear them, sense them and smell them. . . he knew there were at least six demons and three humans, but he couldn't see them.

"Alright, where the fuck are they Blue?" he growled. Illyria looked down at him.

"Their weak spell is deceiving your half-breed senses," she stated in a cold, emotionless voice. "But as weak as your senses are, if you concentrate, you should see them."

Spike ground his teeth, but looked back into the yard. It was quite a large area and, deserted in the darkness, it looked like the perfect arena for a demonic gladiator match. A huge factory loomed on one side with warehouses encasing it from the others, except for a parking lot full of sixteen-wheelers behind a metal, chain-link fence.

Spike scanned the shadows, but there was no one standing in them. Then he looked intently into the centre of the yard, which was illuminated by faint lighting from the buildings.

Suddenly the air shimmered. The vampire's eyes widened for a moment, before his features settled into a smirk. He concentrated on the spot and gradually figures materialized under his gaze.

* * *

"You know, this could be Sunnydale Paranoia talking, but you don't suppose this gas leak here is actually a bunch of demons trying to bring about an apocalypse?" Xander asked no one in particular.

Faith looked up from where she was sitting on the counter eater a bowl of cereal. Xander was leafing through the morning paper- a rather transparent excuse for taking longer with his breakfast instead of helping Dawn in the library with research.

"Funny you should ask about that," Lori said with a thoughtful look on her face as she took a sip of her sugar-infused coffee. "There's actually been quite a few odd disasters happening lately. . . I mean it could just be a co-incidence, but I do recall reading somewhere that the number of accidental and unexplained deaths tripled within the last year."

Xander looked up at her in shock. He _had_ meant it as a joke. Then shock turned to interest.

"Don't suppose we have any old papers laying around?"

"If Giles hasn't thrown them out yet, then there should be several month's worth under the side table in the TV room."

Xander jumped out of his seat and soon the two women heard him bounding up the stairs. Faith grinned.

"Guess he really wants to get out of that library," she joked.

* * *

Spike knew the moment he broke through the spell, because suddenly he could see and hear them with perfect clarity, as if someone had flicked off the 'mute' button on a TV.

"I'll be blunt: what's in it for us?" one of the demons asked in a deep, raspy voice.

"When the Dark Lord becomes ruler of the Wizarding World then he will create a world in which wizards and magical creatures are the dominant beings, not Muggles and Mudbloods."

Spike raised an eyebrow at the aristocratic British voice that answered the demon. His senses told him this man was human. He was wearing black robes with a black hooded cloak and a white mask covered his features. There was an arrogance in his posture, which meant that when he was at home, this man was probably important and very powerful. A sorcerer or warlock of some sort, Spike guessed.

Beside this man were two other humans, who smelt of the same sort of magic as the speaker. One of them was slightly shorter, but dressed in the same masked get-up. The other man was wearing dark green robes with a hood, but no mask.

"Why should we care of some sorcerer's plans to take over the world?" another one of the demons asked.

"We are wizards, not sorcerers!" the speaker growled. Two people in the back chuckled. They were vampires.

"Humans, demons, wizards, vampires and some crazy wanker trying to take over the world," Spike mumbled to himself. "This is actually getting interesting."

"Do you wish to speak to them?" Illyria asked.

"In a bit luv, in a bit."

* * *

"All right, out of bed everyone," Molly Weasley called before swinging the bedroom door open and crossing to the window.

She opened the curtains, letting in the glorious sunshine. However, the occupants of the room didn't seem to think the sun was quite so glorious and silently cursed its annoyingly cheerful disposition as they covered their eyes and groaned.

"What time is it?" Ron rasped.

"It's after nine o'clock dear and we have a lot of work to do today if we're going to get everything cleaned up after the wedding."

The redhead in bed groaned again.

"But mum, can't it wait until. . ."

"Now Ronald!"

"Yes mum."

Slowly, Ron began getting out of bed. Harry was already up and trying to figure out why he couldn't find his toothbrush.

"And Harry dear, if you're looking for your toothbrush, it's in the bathroom," Ron's mother said as she swept out of the room again. "You left it there last night."

"Thanks Mrs. Weasley," Harry called after her. Two seconds later Mrs. Weasley was back, standing in the doorway with her hands on her hips and a stern expression on her face. Harry smiled sheepishly. "Sorry, uhh. . . Molly."

Mrs. Weasley smiled widely at him.

"Why, you're very welcome dear. Now hurry on then, the both of you."

With that she was gone. Ron looked at Harry.

"I can't wait to go to Hogwarts tomorrow," he said. Harry flashed him an evil smile.

"You may rethink that after you see the research schedule I saw Hermione putting together for us."

"Bloody Hell!"

* * *

Spike observed the four demons and two vampires attentively. The vampires looked like regular street thugs, although by their body language, he guessed they were both Master Vampires, probably rivals. Which only peeked the his interest further.

The demons also looked like leaders of their particular tribe or clan. They were decked out in armour, long cloaks and impressive-looking weapons. In other words, they weren't here to fight, just to look intimidating.

"Don't you see, this is the perfect opportunity to pay back those stupid Muggle-loving idiots inside the Ministry!" the human in green said. He had a definite American accent. "For years you have lived in oppression under the unjust rules forced upon you by-"

The two demons who hadn't spoken yet, burst into laughter. One of them was wearing armour bearing the symbol of a powerful demon clan called the Turl'pak Sinin. Spike had never encountered the clan before, but had certainly heard of its reputation for breeding strong warriors. Some of the legends described them as magic-users, whose roots could be traced back to the Old Ones. Spike wasn't quite sure how much of this he believed, but the dark-skinned demon standing in the middle of the loading dock didn't look like someone who'd be easily defeated.

"I did not realize humans could be so amusing," the Turl'pak Sinin warrior said with a menacing grin. "You seem to think that I, Garanth, care what a group of human magic-users says and does. I do not know which laws you speak of, for I have never followed any except those of my clan."

"Go back to England, wizard," said the other laughing demon, a massive sand-coloured brute with purple eyes. "Perhaps you may have better luck with the demons there. Here, in America, we do things differently."

"But the Ministry of Magic-" the American wizard began.

"Is not something I find interesting," dismissed the demon Garanth. He nodded an acknowledgement to the other demons (completely ignoring the two vampires) and then disappeared in a flash of flames.

"I, for one, am happy with how things are," the sand-coloured demon said. "There is a reason we came to the New World."

"When the Dark Lord gains power over the Wizarding and Muggle worlds, he will remember who helped him," the human's spokesperson said. "Once he has gained control, he will become the most powerful wizard alive or dead."

"Your Dark Lord appears to have overestimated his own importance," the sand-coloured demon said, all humour gone from his expression. "There are things more powerful in this world than he, especially now."

Having said that, the demon turned and walked away from the group, ignoring the humans' protests. When he was several feet away, he shimmered slightly and Spike realized he must've just walked through the spell's boundary. He headed straight for the alley Spike and Illyria were watching from.

As he approached, Spike got a better look at the demon. He seemed to recall having run into something similar while hunting in Budapest with Drusilla. Apparently this one had outgrown his Eastern European roots, because Slavic demons were known for being straightforward, but easily confused. He was wearing simple black armour and a heavy black wool cloak lined with fur. There was a massive, richly-decorated axe hanging from his belt.

He paused just after entering the alley and looked at Spike and Illyria out of the corner of his eyes. Spike began taking out his sword, but followed Illyria's lead and didn't attack just yet.

"Just as I suspected," the demon whispered and smiled to himself. "It is an honour to meet the legendary Illyria."

Then he nodded bowed slightly in their direction. Illyria nodded her head in acknowledgement of his greeting and he continued walking. Spike watched him leave.

"I wonder if any of those other demons know you're here," he muttered.

"They are not powerful enough to sense my presence," Illyria stated.

"Yeah, well. . .I'm tired of sitting here watching. Let's go have a chat with them, shall we?" Illyria made a noise of approval.

* * *

The five Death Eaters listening to the Dark Lord were amazed by their leader's brilliant scheme. The Dark Lord himself was quite proud and excited by his discovery in the Malfoy Manor's library. He had taken a particularly ancient-looking tome on magical talismans for some light reading before bed and ended up staying up all night reading about the Gem of Amara.

The Gem of Amara was a round stone set in a ring and supposedly the source of enormous power. It made the wearer invulnerable. One of the books he'd looked at referred to it as a Vampiric Holy Grail.

An hour into their meeting, there was a gentle knock at the door. Voldemort frowned. There was only one person in the entire building with a knock like that.

"Enter," he called, feeling rather generous due to his wonderful discovery.

The door opened silently to reveal Angela standing in the doorway carrying a tray.

"My apologies for the intrusion, my Lord," she said, bowing slightly. That was one thing he found odd about the girl; her manners were impeccable, but she always bowed, never curtsied. "I was wondering if you'd like some tea."

"Yes, I would."

The girl walked in, balancing the tray in her right hand, while she closed the door behind her with her left. The Dark Lord ignored her as she then set it down on a side table beside the large, alabaster fireplace and began preparing his tea.

"I believe we are done here," he addressed the Death Eaters. "You are to bring me the Gem of Amara. Oh, and whichever of you decides to go to America to search, I would recommend getting in touch with Lucius. He's in New York at the moment gathering allies for our cause."

"Yes my Lord," the Death Eaters chorused as one. Then the stood up, bowed deeply and left.

Voldemort took the offered cup of tea from Angela and breathed in its aroma. Now he just needed to be patient.

* * *

Spike stood up and took a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket. He fumbled for his lighter as they approached the group of demons, vampires and wizards.

"Lucius, look, we've got company," Spike heard an unknown voice say. He guessed it was the second masked human. He looked up to see the demons and vampires all watching them approach.

"They're not human," one of the demons growled.

"Do you know them?" the human who'd been speaking at the beginning asked.

"No, I have never met them. . ." the second remaining demon answered. He was observing them with narrowed eyes, as if trying to figure out who they reminded him of.

Spike lit his cigarette and put the lighter back into the pocket of his leather duster. He felt a slight tingle run over his skin and he assumed he had just entered the boundaries of the concealment spell.

"Now tell me, why didn't I get an invite to this party?" Spike drawled and then took a drag of his cigarette.

"Who are you?" the taller of the two masked wizards demanded. "And how did you see through the spell?"

"Wasn't that powerful mate."

"This disillusionment spell was created by me personally. I know exactly how powerful it was! Now tell me how you knew we were here!"

The wizard pointed a thin stick at Spike, which made the blond vampire raise an eyebrow. Spike was about to ask him what he planned to do with it, when Illyria spoke.

"The magic here is weak," she said. "Only something as pathetic as a human would think it powerful."

Spike grinned. Having spent quite a bit of time with her, he knew that Illyria's didn't consciously decide to make everyone around her feel inferior. It was more that she knew they were all inferior and couldn't be bothered with trying to spare their feelings about it.

The man growled.

"Who are you?" he asked, his voice full of barely suppressed anger. Spike smirked.

"The name's Spike." One of the vampires gasped.

"The rumours said you were in town," he said. His eyes narrowed as he looked Spike up and down. "I wonder if you're as tough as they say."

"Never was one to turn down a fight."

"Do you and your companion both come from L.A.?" the second demon interrupted. He was a Tekethi demon. Spike nodded and the demon's eyes widened. "You are from the group that defeated the Circle of the Black Throne."

Spike grinned.

"Yup, that was us. Quite a bit of fun that one. Didn't think we were gonna make it out, but we did."

Fear flashed in the demon's eyes.

"What the fuck is the Circle of the Black Throne?" one of the vampires asked.

"The Black Thorne is, or I should say was, a bunch of evil bastards hell-bent on helping others bring about the Apocalypse," Spike answered. He flicked what was left of his cigarette to the ground and put it out with his heel. "And we destroyed them."

"I wouldn't get ahead of yourself Spike," the Tekethi demon said with a sly smile. "That was merely one part of the Circle. There are others."

"Is that so?" Spike asked with a raised eyebrow. He looked sideways at Illyria. She appeared to only be half paying attention. Spike knew otherwise.

"The Circle of the Black Thorne is a very old organization. Like Wolfram and Hart, it has many branches."

"If it's so old and powerful, why has the Wizarding World never heard of it?" the human's leader demanded.

"Wizarding World?" Spike asked.

"Because it is none of your concern," the demon snapped. There was a moment of silence.

"In that case, may we return to the topic at hand?" the human asked in a quiet, menacing voice. Spike was not impressed. But he was curious.

"And what would the topic be, exactly?"

"The Dark Lord hopes to ally himself with some American groups with the power to begin carrying out his plans here."

"And does this "dark lord" have a name?"

"Some refer to him as He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named or You-Know-Who," the other masked wizard answered helpfully.

Spike blinked at the humans.

"You have got to be fucking kidding me," he said. The humans said nothing, so Spike rolled his eyes. "So, basically what you're saying is that some nameless wannabe wants to take over the world, but ain't strong enough to do it alone, so he's off looking for people to help?"

"The Dark Lord is the most powerful wizard of his time! He does not require anyone's assistance! He-"

The wizard froze when Spike suddenly covered the distance between them and used his vampire speed to pull the hood down. Platinum blond hair spilled out over the upturned hood.

"You know, that mask's starting to get a mite annoying, mate." Spike poked the wizard in the back with his sword. "Lose it."

Spike revelled in the fear and confusion emanating from the wizard. Soul or no, he would never stop loving the way humans smelt when they were terrified of him.

The man tore the mask off his face in anger. Spike grinned. Apparently this guy wasn't used to being threatened.

Now that the mask was off, Spike walked around him, his sword never leaving the human's body. He took in the narrow, aristocratically elegant face with stormy gray eyes. The man was shaking in fury even as he tried to keep his expression neutral. The blond vampire found this amusing.

"Now then, let's start again, shall we?" he asked, morphing into his vamp face. "I'm Spike. And you are?"

"I am a powerful dark wizard in the service of the Dark Lord!"

"Aaah, so you're just a minion then." The man opened his mouth to protest, but Spike cut him off. "I don't deal with minions."

He switched sword hands and then punched the wizard, sending him flying into his companions.

There were several moments of silence. It was broken by a polite cough.

"Well then, I shall respectfully depart," said the Tekethi demon. He turned to the heap of wizards. "There is nothing else left to discuss. Tell your master I decline his offer."

"But-"

"Spike is right. I don't deal with minions. If your master holds us in such high esteem, he should have come himself."

Two other Tekethi demons suddenly appeared out of the shadows and flanked him as he walked out of the factory loading yard.

Spike turned back to the assembled group. The humans had finally managed to disentangle themselves from each other and the blond one was glaring at him.

"Well, well, well. . .looks like your little group is shrinking." Spike smirked.

"Then why don't _you_ join us?" the American wizard asked and walked up to him. "Clearly you are very powerful and the others here seem to know you. A-and the accent means you're from England, right? Well wouldn't you just love to go back and take command of a vampire army?"

Spike felt Illyria come up beside him. The British wizard who was still masked came up to the American's aide.

"That's right, the Dark Lord already has an army of wizards, dementors and werewolves. Now he's looking to put together an army of vampires as well. Together, we can-"

"If the magician's army consists of mere humans and half-breeds, then he is a weak lord," Illyria said.

"Well there aren't very many powerful demon clans left in Europe, that's why he's looking in America," the American protested.

"If you'd be willing to help us gain some of their trust, then I'm sure the Dark Lord would be eternally grateful," the blond wizard said from behind the other two. Spike noticed he had that stick out again and was holding it as if it were a weapon.

Spike looked at him and shrugged.

"Yeah, well I'm sure the old me would've just loved to run around jolly ol' England killing and torturing to my soulless heart's content. But I bat for the white hats now." He paused. The wizards appeared confused. "So really, that sort of makes me your enemy."

That they understood. Spike saw the vampires in the back stiffen.

"So those rumours are true as well, are they?" one of them drawled. "You're like your grandsire, killin' your own kind."

"Yup, that's me, champion of the sodding people," Spike replied cheerfully.

"What!" the American wizard exclaimed. "B-but you-you're a vampire! You're a dark creature; that means you're evil."

Spike snorted.

"Clearly you missed the memo on gypsy curses," he said and turned back to the Master Vampires. They were both in fighting stances, one of them holding a steel baseball bat and the other a rather large machete. However, for some reason, the American wizard simply couldn't take the hint.

"What do gypsies have to do with vampires? And shouldn't you be eating humans instead of helping them? Or is it some sort of a new trend we haven't heard about? A new-age thing tha-aaah!"

There was a loud crack and then silence.

Spike turned his head in time to see Illyria toss the dead wizard to the ground, a disgusted look on her face.

"These creatures are annoying me," she said. Spike chuckled as the two remaining humans backed away from them with wide eyes.

"Do you have any idea who that was?" the last demon asked with a raspy voice. He slowly took his sword out. Spike did the same. Illyria cocked her head at him.

"His identity is not important."

"Yeah, well it was to us," said the vampire holding a baseball bat. "I think you two have overstayed your welcome."

"There was a welcome?" Spike asked. The vampire growled and both of them charged at him.

Spike easily dodged the baseball bat. However, doing so brought him into close proximity of the other's machete. He blocked it with the flat of his sword and spun around towards the ground, kicking at his opponents legs. The vampire jumped over his spinning leg and Spike used the same momentum to propel himself back up.

As he swung his sword at the vampire's torso, he caught a glimpse of Illyria battling the demon. For some reason she hadn't drawn her sword and was blocking the demon's blows with her bare hands.

Spike mentally shrugged. She was playing with him.

The vampire he was fighting, it turned out, was actually very good at using the machete in his hand and had no trouble keeping up with Spike's sword. It was nice to go up against a strong opponent again.

Then Spike felt a presence behind him. He ducked in time to feel the air move as the heavy baseball bat went through the air where his head used to be. He kicked up at the vampire and sent him staggering backwards several steps. Then he brought his sword up in time to block another attack from the machete.

He noticed the humans had backed away from the fighting and had those thin sticks in their hands pointed towards them. They were talking about whether or not they should leave. Spike ignored them, he had other things to worry about.

* * *

Xander walked into the library with a stack of newspaper clippings, looking excited.

"Hey Dawnie, you wanna take a break and work some of your computer magic for me?" he called. Dawn and all the other occupants of the large table raised their heads.

"Uhh, Xander I already checked and rechecked the web for anything about the prophesy. . ." Dawn said, frowning.

"This has nothing to do with the prophesy." He paused. "Well, at least I don't think it does. Although, with our luck. . ."

"You aren't still on about the newspaper article, are you?" Lori asked. When he didn't answer, she rolled her eyes and looked back to the ancient-looking tome she was studying.

Xander ignored her and slid into an empty seat beside Dawn. He immediately began spreading the newspaper clippings in front of him and Dawn. Dawn shot him an annoyed look when they covered up her book.

"Xander, I don't think the local paper includes columns on ancient prophecies," she said.

"Would make things so much easier though, if demons advertised their apocalypses in the paper," Faith commented. She set aside the heavy volume she was pretending to read and made her way over to the two of them.

"You mean like a social column for apocalypse cults?"

"You should suggest it next time you run into one of them," Xander said.

"Sure thing Cyclops," Faith grinned. "'Cept that I have a tendency of sticking pointy things into them, that they don't really like too much."

"Damn."

"Xander, do you actually have a point to all of this or did you just come in here to distract us!" Lori demanded angrily. The others looked at her in surprise.

"Woah, what's with the grouchies?" Xander asked. "And yes, I do happen to have a point."

Lori sighed.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean for it to come out that way. I've been feeling a bit irritable lately. It. . . it just. . ."

"It's this city," Faith finished for her. Lori nodded. "Yeah, I've been sorta feelin' it too, but I can deal."

"Which is more than I can say for most people around here," Xander said. "Yesterday I went to get milk and had to break up a fight between two little old ladies. Then one of them actually threatened to set her cat on me!"

"You know suddenly, having a Hellmouth in town sounds kinda appealing," said Dawn. "Then at least we know what to blame all weirdness on."

"Yeah," Faith chuckled. "So, Xandman, what've you got for us, yo?"

"Well, I've got people dropping dead, weird smoke signals, freak storms that don't sound all that natural and a shitload of people with amnesia."

Dawn picked up one of the articles and began to read it. Faith did the same. Even Lori pulled her chair up closer and reached for the nearest chipping.

* * *

Spike finally managed to land a good kick that sent Mr. Machete Vampire sailing through the air and knocking the wizards off their feet. Then he turned to the vamp batter just in time to block the bat with his left arm before it could turn his face into a hamburger patty.

Behind him he heard the tell-tale clang of metal on metal, which meant that Illyria had finally taken out her sword. Spike gave the demon about two minutes.

He jabbed forward with his sword and felt it slide nicely into dead flesh. The vampire howled in pain. Spike let go of the sword and punched him. He fell backwards onto the concrete ground.

Spike dashed over to the fallen vampire and braced his foot against his chest as he pulled the sword out. The vampire swiped at him with the baseball bat, but he neatly jumped out of the way. The vampire was staggering to his feet when Spike chopped its head off.

The bleached blond vampire didn't wait to watch the batter vamp's dust float to the ground. He swung around to look for Mr. Machete. He wasn't going anywhere. Illyria held him tightly by the scruff.

Spike smelt magic in the air. He looked around for the human minions, but they were gone. The demon's body lay several metres away, blood seeped through large gashes in its torso. The head lay a bit farther.

Spike shrugged and walked over to Illyria and her current victim.

* * *

"Hm, ok, so you might be onto something," Lori finally conceded 15 minutes later.

"And this is only the stuff that made the London Times," Xander pointed out, already standing. "I'll bet there's more things in some of the local papers that never got picked up by the big city one."

"Yea, but these things are all over the country," Faith said.

"Bringers were all over the world," said Xander. Faith nodded.

"Lori, how did hellmouths come about?" Dawn suddenly asked.

"Hellmouths?" Lori asked, confused. "Well, they're gates to Hell. . ."

"I so know what they are; lived on one remember? No, I mean were they a freak of nature, caused by some sort of volcano or earthquake or something, or were they created?"

"Woah, D, you think someone's tryin' to build their own personal door to Hell?"

"I don't know. But we've all noticed how hellmouthy things seem around here. Plus, there's all these weird demony things - maybe they're side-effects of someone tampering with forces that shouldn't be tampered with."

"I suppose. . ." Lori looked sceptical. "Although what you're suggesting sounds rather apocalyptic in nature. Maybe it does tie into the prophesy. . ."

"Oooh, what if whoever's doing this is the Snake!"

"So, this Snake guy is tryin' to take over the world by drillin' a hole into Hell . . . I don't get it, yo." Faith shook her head. "Sunnydale and Cleveland both have hellmouths and they're both fine. Well, they were 'till Spike decided one needed blowin' up."

"Unless this Snake fellow botches it up somehow," Lori added. "Although if we are dealing with someone trying to call up forces from Hell, then that could possibly explain the rather unusual Biblical reference at the top."

"Huh?" Xander asked.

"She means the 'In seven days created' crap," Faith explained.

"Aaah, right, that part."

"Ok, is it just me, or does it feel like there's something missing to this thing?" Dawn asked.

"What do you mean?" asked Lori.

"The prophesy. . . it just seems, I don't know, incomplete. I mean it says a whole bunch of different things are going to happen, but not in what order or when they'll happen. And there's no explainy bit about who's going to destroy the world. There's champions, there's Ancients and there's a Snake and a Lion."

"And an Apocalypse, don't forget the Apocalypse."

"Thanks Xander, 'cause that part's totally forgettable."

Lori got up and stretched.

"Well, Dawn, why don't you and Xander see what you can find on the computer. I think I'll go help Giles wake up the slayers for their morning training and tell him about your theory."

"Sure thing," Dawn said and pushed her book and the clippings away, so that she could set up her laptop.

"Yo, I'll go help with the mini-slayers," Faith called after Lori. "I could use some good, hard training right about now."

"Is it even possible for you to say anything without some sort of sexual innuendo involved?'

"Nah, where would the fun in that be?"

* * *

"Please let me go," the master vampire whined. "I promise to tell everyone to leave the two of you alone. A-and I'll personally make sure that the other nest doesn't kill you for slaying their leader. . ."

"Silence!" Illyria said and brought her sword up to his neck.

"Now, now pet, we wouldn't want to get hasty," Spike said. Then he addressed the vampire. "You sing nice and we'll let you go. But if we don't like your song. . . "

He let the threat dangle. After all, with Illyria's sword two centimetres from his throat, it didn't take a genius to figure out what was at stake.

"Umm, yeah, sure, whatever you want to know," the vampire quickly agreed. Spike smirked.

"Who were those humans- wizards or whatever they called themselves?"

"Death Eaters. . . minions of the Dark Lord. . .they use wands and are some sort of European cult trying to get rid of impure magical blood or something."

"They call themselves Death Eaters and expect someone to take them seriously? Next you'll be telling me they worship Satan and talk to snakes!"

"I. . .uh. . . don't know anything about that. . ." The vampire was starting to look a bit panicked.

"All right, what about this Wizarding World they mentioned?"

"Apparently a magical society with its own government. Everyone in it is a wizard and they all use wands. . . and, uh. . . " Spike gave him a sceptical look. "I swear it's what they told us. They're a secret society and-and they don't like outsiders knowing about them, said they could use magic to fuck with people's memories, make them forget they saw anything when they do. And their ministry has a thing against dark creatures and magical creatures in general. Thinks they're below humans and such."

"Where do I find this secret society?"

"I don't know, I'm not a wizard!"

Illyria tightened her hold and rested her sword against his skin.

"Ok, ok, so maybe there's a rumour about a little shopping district hidden within the inner city for magic folk. There's a secret entrance somewhere by a coffee shop named Reno's. But the shop's nearly impossible to find. It's like it moves or something."

"So we find coffee shop called Reno's and we find us a gateway to a magical world?" Spike paused and shook his head. "When exactly did I get stuck in a second rate fantasy flick?" he muttered.

"And this dark lord of theirs, what can you tell me about him?" Spike continued on. "Who's he got on his side?"

He didn't like the sound of this. On one level it sounded ridiculous, but being a vampire who spend several years on a Hellmouth, he knew that even seemingly innocuous things such as song and dance, could become very dangerous in the wrong hands.

"What?" Illyria applied a bit of pressure with the sword. "Ow! I don't know! I swear it, they promised to tell us the whole story if we joined them and went to England and well, you interrupted them when they were here, so. . ."

Suddenly the vampire exploded into dust. Spike looked at Illyria questioningly.

"I did not like his song," she said. Spike chuckled.

* * *

"So, how's the research going?" Giles asked as he walked into the library with a plate of sandwiches and a bottle of pop. He paused at the table, not knowing where to put the food since it was covered in piles of books, newspaper clippings and computer printouts.

"Ooh, food!" Xander exclaimed and grabbed a sandwich. Then he carelessly shoved some of the papers aside to make room for the plate.

"Well, we're definitely on to something," Dawn said as she tried yet another small town coroner's office. She glanced up for long enough to reach over and take a sandwich from the plate.

"We just don't know what we're on to yet," Xander added, picking up a book on demons who killed with their minds.

"Yes, Lori mentioned that you'd found something in the paper." Giles picked up some of the printouts and began browsing through them. "And that you think perhaps someone is trying to create a Hellmouth here in London."

"Well, we don't know if it's in London, since the weirdness isn't happening just here, it's all over," Dawn answered. She frowned and groaned in frustration. "Do people in small towns not know how to create easy-to-navigate websites? I swear this one's like possessed or something."

"Maybe there's another demon on the internet," Xander suggested.

"Maybe. . . wait, another one!"

"Xander, where is the article from today's paper?" Giles quickly asked. He really didn't want to go reminiscing just now.

"Uhhh. . . oh, here it is." Xander passed it to him and Giles read it over.

Lori walked in looking refreshed and much cheerier than she had in the morning.

"So, any luck?" she asked.

"Lots," Dawn answered. "Xander was right, the local papers are full of unexplained deaths, random gas leaks and missing people reports. Its scary how much this reminds me of good ol' Sunnyhell."

"Too bad we don't have another convenient evil major to blame everything on," Xander joked. Giles at him from the top of his glasses.

"Why do you say that?"

"Well, it wouldn't be a major anyway," Lori pointed out. "This is so widespread it would have to be someone from the federal government, like the Prime Minister or someone like that."

"If it is, then can I say 'major backfire'?" said Xander. "'Cause the PM ain't doin' so well. Of everyone, he's got the shitty deal what with everyone blaming him for everything. I mean, it's not like he could control the weather!" He paused. "Well, unless he really is the demon-worshipping kind of politician."

Dawn rolled her eyes.

"He's got a point. The government's in a bad place right now, so I don't think they're the ones meddling."

Lori turned to Giles, who was now reading his third article with a thoughtful expression on his face.

"Do you really think there's something here?"

"Well, it's a possible maybe," Giles said and put the clipping back onto the pile it was from. "But that's better than anything we have so far. Although I do think that the tie into the prophesy is stretching it a bit."

He took a set of car keys out of his pocket and threw them to Xander.

"Get Faith and go check out that latest gas leak, see what you can find out."

"Sweet, field trip!" Xander leaped out of his chair. He grabbed another sandwich before setting off in search of Faith.

* * *

The portkey deposited them just in front of the Hogwarts steps. Harry stumbled back a bit after landing and would've tripped over a large rock if not for Mr. Weasley's quick reaction. Harry smiled at him in thanks. Then they both followed Mad-Eye Moody and the others up the stairs.

Professor McGonagall had just walked out of the Great Hall when they entered.

"'lo Minerva," Mad-Eye greeted.

"Hello everyone," said the new headmistress.

"Professor, I didn't know you stayed here over the summer," Hermione said.

McGonagall raised an eyebrow at her in a way that momentarily reminded her of Snape. She pushing aside the feeling of intense anger that threatened to bubble to the surface. Then she wondered whether Snape picked up that particular expression from McGonagall, or she from him.

Hermione shook her head, not quite knowing why she was wondering such things to begin with.

"I don't, usually," Professor McGonagall answered her. "However, some arrangements had to be made if you three were to stay here for the rest of the summer. I will, in fact, be leaving again this afternoon so you will have the place to yourselves for several weeks. Except for Professors Trelwany and Firenze and Madame Pomphrey. But they tend to keep to themselves."

"Oh."

"Anyway, you may use Gryffindor Tower since you are already familiar with it and either have the house elves bring your meals there, or take them in the kitchens. I assume you know where those are. . ." She paused for long enough for them to nod in agreement. "Good. Also, you may use anything from Dumbledore's office - the password is 'lemon drop'. His brother has already gone through his belongings and taken out anything too personal, so you need not worry on that account."

She motioned to Moody.

"Yea, well I'm not too keen on this idea myself, but if it'll help defeat You-Know-Who, then so be it," he said, his fake eye spinning from one corner of the area to the other and his real eye watching the three students closely. "I also don't like the secrecy, especially since we only have your word that's what Dumbledore wanted. . ."

"Are you calling me a liar?" Harry demanded.

"No, of course he's not," Mr. Weasley said with a smile that was just a little bit too wide. He put a hand on Harry's shoulder and squeezed. Harry glared up at him.

"Right," Moody said sceptically. "Anyway, someone from the Order's gonna be stopping by to check in on you every two or three days, depending on when we can spare them. An' I'll be adding some extra wards before we leave, so you should be good for security seeing as how no one other than us knows you're here. As long as you stay put and don't go gallivanting off on some fool's errand or tell anyone where you are, then you'll be safe."

"Thank you Mr. Moody," Hermione said with a grateful smile. She figured that at least one of them needed to be polite.

He nodded once to her.

"Well, I'd best be getting to work on those wards," Moody had barely finished the sentence when he began to make his way out of the castle. Mr. Weasley turned to the Trio.

"Well, best of luck with whatever it is that you're going to be doing here," he said. "And I know Minerva said she'd already told you this, but I'm going to say it again. Please don't forget that we're on your side. If you need help with anything, if whatever you're doing gets dangerous, we're just a Floo away."

"The Floo in Professor Dumbledore's office is still active, by the way," McGonagall added. "However, it's set to outgoing only so that you don't get any surprises."

"Well, that's everything, I guess you three better go get settled."

"Thank you Mr. Weasley, Professor," Harry said. "And don't worry, we'll be fine. And if we're not, then I promise, we'll call."

"Call? Call wh-"

"I mean Floo. If there's any problem, we'll definitely Floo."

"Oh, I see. Well, then good luck you three."

Mr. Weasley squeezed each of their hands, Ron's extra hard, and then went off to help Moody with the wards.

"I can't believe they don't trust us!" Harry seethed once they were alone and making their way up to Gryffindor Tower. "After all we've done, they actually don't trust us!"

"Harry I think you're being a tad over dramatic," Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Yeah, mate, I hate to agree with her, but they are letting us stay in the castle alone," Ron added.

"Other than Trelwany and Ferinze you mean," grumbled Harry.

"And what are the odds of us running into one of them?" Hermione demanded.

"Pretty good apparently." Ron motioned just ahead of them, where Professor Trelwany was breezing through the hallway towards them.

"Aaah, my crystal ball told me we were going to have visitors," she said, looking them up and down. She had bags under her eyes and her face was drawn as if she hadn't slept at all the night before.

"So, McGonagall's a crystal ball now, is she?" Ron muttered to his friends. Both of them bit back a laugh.

"Hello Professor," Harry said, deciding that the sooner they got this over with the better. "How are you today?"

"Oh, I'm fine Harry dear. But I fear that you won't be soon. The stars had many things to tell me last night. Something has begun, a great danger lies ahead and it could change the world. Heed the star's warnings, or you may all die." She paused and stood there looking thoughtful.

"Yes, thank you professor, we'll uh. . . make sure to stay away from this great danger."

"There was also something about an oracle, but I didn't quite understand that part. There was a cloud in the way, you see. Perhaps you're supposed to heed the oracle's warnings. . . no, I'm the oracle, I think. Or perhaps there's another oracle, who's evil and you're supposed to 'beware the oracle', no that doesn't sound right. . ."

"Yes. . .well, we have to get going. We'll see you around. . ."

Harry, Ron and Hermione slowly crept their way around the still babbling Divination Professor. As soon as they were well clear of her, they broke into a sprint.

By the time they reached the moving staircases, they were out of breath from laughing while running.

"Blimey, she gets battier every year!" Ron gasped once they reached the foot of the staircase.

"Great danger lies ahead?" Harry grinned. "That's her big prediction? Where did she get that from, the Daily Prophet?"

"And that 'something that has begun', that would be the war and that began last year!" Hermione added.

"Well, there was one thing different this time," Harry said seriously.

"What?"

"It seems this time I'm not going to die alone."

He laughed out loud as his friends rolled their eyes. Hermione started the trek up the stairs.

"Come on you two, we've got a lot of research to do," she said. "Maybe we'll get lucky and find all the horocruxes and destroy them in time for school to start in September."

Ron groaned.

"Is that all you ever think about?"

* * *

Hope you liked that latest and longest installment of my story. Please review! I'd really love to know if there's anything I'm doing wrong or if there's something I'm doing really really right.

Author's Notes:

**Demons** - All of the demons in this chapter were made up by me. Unless I'm somehow psychic, none of them have ever appeared on Buffy or Angel. Although Slavic folklore does indeed depict demons and other evil beings as being rather stupid and actually rather obsessive compulsive.

**The Gem of Amara **- the only people who actually knew what happened to that thing were Angel, Cordelia and Doyle. . .and sort of Spike by default. Therefore it stands to reason that none of the wizarding texts would by up-to-date on its whereabouts. Also, on BTVS Giles said the texts said it didn't exist. I'm assuming here that somehow wizards had slightly more conclusive information on its existence. Or that Voldy's like Spike and just nuts enough to go hunting after a Holy Grail. : )

**Timezones** - Just in case anyone starts complaining about how my two storylines don't quite add up since one is in the middle of the night and the other is early in the morning. . . one word: timezones! Spike and Illyria are in New York, where it is 3 am at the start of the chapter, which means that it's 8 am in England when Voldemort calls his Death Eaters together. Clear?


	4. Chapter 4

**Happy Canada Day everyone!** And to celebrate the birth of my wonderful country: a new chapter! Lol, no, it wasn't planned. .. I just happen to have time to update now. Sorry these chapters are so slow in coming, but, well, have you SEEN how long they are? Anyway, I'm really looking forward to hearing what you guys think of this one. The plot is slowly starting to unravel. . . .

Thanks so much to Gwen and LadySunflower, my two amazing betas. You ladies are amazing.

Disclaimer: Nope, don't own any of this. Well, except for the plot, and the prophecy I guess.

* * *

-1**The Prophecy of the Four**

**Chapter 4 **- Glimpses

Two men in expensive suits walked down a windowless hallway. Fluorescent lights above their heads showed light grey walls, lined with wooden doors. The doors looked identical, except for the small golden numbers at eyelevel.

The men stopped before one of the doors, number 31. The younger of the two, a sandy-haired fellow with a small hoop in his left ear, took out a key and unlocked it. They walked in and he replaced the key in his pocket.

They entered a large, empty room. It was quite ordinary: beige walls, dark wood floors and a simple, oak cabinet standing to the far right.

The sandy-haired man walked to the centre of the room and took a lighter out of his pocket. He knelt down and lit several black candles arranged around a three metre wide circular diagram on the floor. Once they were all lit, he stood back up and joined his companion by the closed door.

The diagram was a set of interwoven symbols, which - apart from looking rather neat - would've said nothing to the casual observer. However, if said casual observer bothered to look closer at the design, they might notice it was drawn in blood.

Suddenly a gust of wind blew through the quiet, windowless room. The air above the blood design shimmered. The shimmer became stronger and a slivery-blue opening appeared in the centre of the circle. Within moments it was brushing the ground, having expanded to the size of a door.

A robed figure stepped through.

It was a woman, although the only thing which distinguished her as such were the slightly feminine features in her face. Her face was pale and smooth, as if someone had taken her skin and forcibly stretched it out like taffy. She had pale green, bloodshot eyes and light brown hair, which hung from her head in a tangled mess as it disappeared down into the depths of her robes. She was sickly thin and walked hunched over, looking as if she was in need of a cane. Her robes were made of a dark, blood red material with strange symbols etched in gold around the edges. Where the robes parted, plain black cloth was visible.

Four tall, black cloaked figures followed her through the portal, each carrying several large yellowish volumes. When the last of them stepped through, the portal closed with a slight flash of light.

The sandy-haired man stepped forward.

"Welcome to London, Lady Zhur," he said, bowing. "I am Edward Wilkins and this is my associate Peter Knight."

The lady bowed her head in greeting.

"We have a limo waiting to take you to your mansion," said the second man. He was older than the first, with distinguished salt and pepper hair and a serious face that bore the first signs of old age with grace. Someone might've easily mistaken him for an old, English gentleman.

The newcomer nodded.

"What news have you for me?" she finally asked. Her voice sounded old and raspy, though it was unexpectedly high-pitched. English was also obviously not her first language.

The older man, Knight, opened up the brown file folder he had been holding under his arm.

"The Ministry of Magic is in a general state of panic. It seems their poster boy, Harry Potter, isn't cooperating and can't be found at the moment. Albus Dumbledore is dead, by one of his own no less. This means Hogwarts may not open next September. . ."

"So the Order of the Phoenix has lost its leader. . ." Lady Zhur interrupted with a thoughtful expression on her face. "This is unexpected, but not unfortunate."

"Yes ma'am," Wilkins said. "The Ministry is reeling from the blow. After all, the Hogwarts headmaster was the only one around there who knew what he was doing."

"Hmm. . . and young Potter is nowhere to be found, you say?" She gestured towards Knight with gnarled, twisted fingers.

"He is no longer staying at his aunt and uncle's house," he replied. "About a week ago Arthur Weasley and Auror Nymphadora Tonks came to collect him. We are assuming he must be staying with one of them."

"So you've lost him to the Wizarding World. . .well, nevermind. It was unavoidable. In any case, he is too young and too weak to be a threat to us now. What of Voldemort?"

"According to our sources, Voldemort has been attempting to forge alliances in America."

"He's not doing very well, however," Wilkins added. "Their main contact, Wizarding Senator Thomas Krankton was killed during a meeting."

Lady Zhur frowned.

"Who was he trying to recruit?"

"Vampires, demons mostly. He already has the silent support of several well-respected Wizarding families, although none of them are willing to actually do anything about it until he's established his power here in Europe."

"Good. And the vampires?"

"Some have started migrating towards Europe and England, but we haven't heard anything about the army he's apparently trying to raise."

"We think this could be because a leader has yet to emerge," Knight said. "The werewolves have Greyback, but there's no 'alpha' master vampire yet. And vampires won't follow anyone who isn't a vampire."

"Pity Angelus didn't work out," Lady Zhur commented.

"Indeed."

"So, what have the Senior Partners to say on the subject?"

The two men smirked.

"They are leaving everything in your hands."

"Wonderful. Keep me updated. I should also like to go over all the data you've retrieved so far."

"Of course, ma'am, we'll have it sent to your residence."

Knight bowed slightly as he gallantly opened the door for Lady Zhur and her company. She walked out of the door and began to make her way to the elevator, which would take them all into the foyer of Wolfram & Hart.

* * *

"Anytime now some bloke in dark glasses will offer me a red pill," Spike said dryly.

"Huh? What makes you think that?" the tiny, long-haired brunette beside him asked.

"Nevermind Blue, it's from a movie."

"Oh right, the Matrix. I remember that; Gunn made me watch it back when we were dating. . ." The girl stopped talking and frowned. Spike raised an eyebrow at her.

"Well, certainly looks like you inherited more from Fred than just her body."

"The shell's memories seem to be strongest when I am in this form." The girl's eyes flashed and suddenly her voice was much colder.

"You're also much sweeter in this form."

"But not unable to rip your limbs from your body."

Spike coughed.

"Right then. So, this is the place then, is it? Doesn't look like much."

The blond vampire turned to look out of the shadows of the alley they were standing in. Across the street stood a quiet, unassuming little coffee shop. Spike observed it sceptically, wondering if he'd been had. There was nothing remotely strange about it. It had a bright red canopy over the entrance and little while plastic tables and chairs standing out on the sidewalk. Big bold yellow letters painted across the front window labelled it as 'Reno's Itallian Coffee'. All Spike could smell from where he was standing was coffee, tea and pastry.

If he were still in Sunnydale then the sheer normalness of the place would be a clear indication of pure evil. However, evil in big cities didn't usually bother so much with blending in. Although, if he concentrated very hard, Spike could see a faint aura of some sorts surrounding the place.

"I sense a magical aura from this store," Illyria said. "However, I believe it is masking something stronger."

"Masking something stronger?" Spike turned his head in time to see Illyria morph out of Fred's likeness and into her own. "You mean the coffee shop looks so bloody normal because it's not really a coffee shop?"

"There is a displacement spell surrounding it."

"Lovely. . . want some coffee then Blue?"

Illyria cocked her head at the blond vampire.

"You plan to walk in during the day?"

Spike rolled his eyes. "Of course not. We'll wait 'till the sun goes down."

Just then Illyria's eyes widened slightly. At the same time, Spike felt a shimmer of magic from across the street. He turned back around. The coffee shop was gone.

"Bugger."

* * *

_Lashes of flames lit up the night sky, their heat warming the cool air. The grass in the forest clearing, once a happy green, was charred black. Frail little structures made from braches, animal hides and mud fell apart as the fires ate at them and then set the trees around ablaze._

_Fear. It permeated through the air, sticking to everything like the soot that covered it. Screams of pain and terror resounded nearby. And bellows of joy: unearthly, hideous sounds that no human could've ever produced._

_Suddenly a young warrior ran into her field of vision, a crude-looking machete in hand. He fell with a cry of pain as an axe buried itself into his back. Another man ran up to him and pulled it out before helping him to slowly stand. This man was older. He was wearing a striped animal skin and a headdress of animal bones and herbs. In his hand was a long, wooden staff._

_More humans came into view; a panicked mob trying to escape their horrible foe. They were screaming. Another terrifying bellow echoed in the clearing._

_Suddenly, a shadow moved and a dark blue creature leapt from its depths. It landed on top of a young woman and she fell beneath it to the ground. A flash of metal and she stopped squirming._

_A pool of blood began to form around her partially hacked-off head._

_The creature looked up from its prey. Its eyes were yellow; its skin looked almost black under the night sky, but movement of light from the fires revealed it to be dark blue. It had thick, lanky, shoulder-length hair tied back with a strip of skin. It had a single, thick scar running diagonally across its chest just below where an amulet of green stone hung around its neck._

_It snarled at the humans running away. All of a sudden it swung around and brought its sword up to block the staff of the man wearing the headdress._

_"I will defeat you demon," the man cried and stepped back to swing again with his staff._

_The top of the staff was a clump of dried herbs, animal remains and a pointed stone with a symbol carved into it. The demon hissed as the stone connected with its shoulder; the spot began to burn. The man didn't waste time and immediately attempted to ram the staff into the demon's chest. However, the demon dodged the move with lightning speed and grabbed the staff in his left hand as he rammed his sword into the human. The man cried out in pain._

_"You are too weak human," the demon said watching the human fall to his knees. "You cannot defeat us and now you are dying."_

_"I am not alone," the man rasped. "We will find a way. We will defeat you."_

_The demon laughed and tore the man's head off with his bare hands. Then he pulled his sword out of the corpse's abdomen._

_Another demon ran past him and he grinned widely, showing two neat rows of very sharp teeth. Then he threw his head back and bellowed at the night sky. He ran after his comrade._

_There were more screams._

_Then there was quiet._

_She turned around to look at the battlefield. No, slaughterhouse. The sun was beginning to peek at the edge of the horizon, shining light onto the black and red spotted grass. It shone onto blood-stained faces, wide eyes staring into nothingness._

_In the distance, she heard one of the demons bellow. She looked down at her hands._

_They were covered in blood._

Angela opened her eyes with a start. She could feel her heart beating wildly in her chest and she had to fight to catch her breath. All she could see in front of her eyes were images of dead children laying in the mud, deep slashes across their small bodies as their blood drew rivers around them.

"Is Miss Angela all right?" a tiny voice squeaked.

Angela sat up. There were several elves standing beside her straw mattress with worried looks on their faces.

"Y-yes, thank you," she replied. "It was just a nightmare."

One of the elves nodded and they all returned to their duties in the kitchen. Angela took a deep breath. Perhaps, she decided, a cup of tea before she had to help serve dinner would be a good idea.

* * *

A warm breeze ruffled her long, light brown hair and Dawn closed her eyes, smiling, as she soaked in every aspect of the beautiful weather. A true Californian at heart, she loved the sunshine and the warmth it brought with it. It was probably why Italy had managed to enchant her so thoroughly. Well, that and the beautiful architecture, which spoke with a warm and friendly, yet elegant and distinguished voice that steel, concrete and glass never could.

Dawn opened her eyes in time to see the light turn green. She quickly crossed the street. Once across, she adjusted her purse strap and looked around, trying to decide which way she wanted to go next. After all, this could be the only break from research she'd get during her stay in England and she planned to take full advantage of it.

She was also trying her hardest to ignore the people she was passing. Everyone looked tired and downtrodden, as if something sinister was pressing down on them and they were unable to shake it off despite the gorgeous weather. Hers was practically the only smile she saw.

After a moment, Dawn decided to turn left, onto a side street. She passed a quaint little flower shop and entered the shop next to it. Half an hour later she came out with a wide smile on her face and a new pair of shoes. The shop assistant had been rather grumpy, but after two weeks in London, Dawn was getting quite used to it.

Outside Dawn paused and breathed in the fragrance the wind blew towards her from the flower shop. It took exactly half a second for her to decide she wanted to stroll around aimlessly before heading back to the main street. Besides, the jewellery boutique she saw at the end of the side street looked rather interesting.

Half an hour of aimless wandering (otherwise known as shopping) later, Dawn realized she was thirsty. She scanned the street she was on. Nothing.

"If I were a lemonade stand, where would I be?" she mumbled under her breath and began to walk in the general direction of the main street. Suddenly she looked across the street and stopped.

"Ooooh, there I'd be. .. well, okay maybe if by lemonade stand I meant pub," Dawn's face lit up as she observed the tiny, run-down building.

The structure looked as if it had stood there since the Anglo-Saxons first stepped foot onto the British Isles. It was made of large grey stones and had a heavy, wooden door with a black steel handle. Above the door, there hung a black cauldron. Like the building, it appeared to have weathered as many storms as London itself. Beside it, Dawn saw the pub's name.

"The Leaky Cauldron," Dawn read. "Huh, that just sounds, so. . . so British." She smiled widely. "Gee, I wish I'd brought a camera so I could take a picture and send it to Buffy and Willow. Willow would love this. I wonder if the inside's all, like, witchy themed."

Dawn quickly crossed the street, excited about her new discovery. She was a couple buildings away, when she suddenly felt it. Magic. She'd been around enough of it to recognize that subtle shimmer that lightly grazed the skin and seeping into its pores. This wasn't the intense, burst of power that would indicate someone doing a spell, but rather a calm, steady island of an enchantment already in place.

Dawn took a few more steps towards the pub. The magic lapping at her senses got stronger. It didn't help that everyone else appeared to be ignoring the place. Just then, a man walked out of the Leaky Cauldron. She stopped in her tracks.

He was wearing a set of tattered grey robes, with the hood over his head. He stopped just outside the pub and looked around, as he was afraid of being followed. As he looked in Dawn's direction, she got a glimpse of his face. He seemed to be about Giles's age with light brown hair that was peppered with age. He was pale and looked as if he hadn't slept properly in about a year.

But there was something else about him that worried Dawn. She couldn't explain how or why, but she could feel there was something more to him, something she couldn't see. It wasn't necessarily evil, but certainly dark.

"Yup, that would be me, discovering the only demon bar in the area when all I'm searching for is a lemonade," Dawn muttered.

She watched as the man hurried off into an alleyway beside the pub. And then did what every sensible Scoobie would do: followed him.

As she hurried past the Leaky Cauldron, she tried to get a glimpse inside, frowning when she couldn't see through the glass.

'Weird,' she thought. 'What kind of a pub has one-way glass?'

That was quickly pushed aside when she peeked into the alley and realized it was empty. Puzzled, she stared at the brick wall at the end. It was dirty and had the regulation dumpster on one side, but there was no Odd-Man-in-Robes. She walked to the end and touched the wall. It was solid. She turned around and scanned the alley again. There were no doors, or suitably large windows to be seen.

"Huh," she announced to the empty alley. "Okay, definitely weird and unusual."

The image of the alley Willow led her into when she went to see Rack sprang unbidden into Dawn's mind. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, feeling her surroundings just like Willow had taught her. She felt some weak magic, like someone had just done a spell here. She didn't recognize it, but it didn't feel dark.

Dawn opened her eyes. She was inwardly glad the magic she felt wasn't dark. It made her feel a bit better about going into the pub. Maybe it wasn't a demon bar after all. Not that she hadn't been a regular at the demon bar in Rome or anything. . . but that was Rome.

And Rome hadn't suddenly begun to feel like it was growing itself a new hellmouth.

Maybe the guy she'd seen was just an anomaly anyway and the rest of the patrons were completely ordinary people. Or maybe they were all incredibly sexy orange flamingos.

Dawn sighed and walked out of the alley. Just then her cell phone rang. She groaned as she put her bags down and dug through her purse.

"Okay I'm shopping here, so this'd better be damn important," she said when she picked up. "Really? Cool. What! But. . . are you sure? Oh fine, I'm on my way."

She glared at the offending gadget before stuffing it back into her purse, picking up her purse and heading back to the main street to catch a cab back to the Watcher's Council.

The Leaky Cauldron remained where it was, ignored by everyone else who walked by it.

* * *

"Great, so not only is the coffee shop mobile, it's also having a bloody identity crisis!"

A human-looking Illyria ignored Spike as he ranted. They'd just emerged from the sewers and were standing in the shade of a large tree at the edge of some park. It had taken them hours, but they'd finally managed to find Reno's again. At least the small baby blue structure of Reno's Coffee House had the same magical aura as Reno's Italian Coffee.

There were wooden tables set up outside surrounded by wicker chairs and with a vase of flowers in the centre of each. The shop's windows were lined with planters of bright coloured flowers.

"It's the same place, despite its appearance," Illyria said in her own voice. Apparently she was trying to keep from becoming bubbly, cheerful Fred again.

"You sure 'bout that, Blue?"

The demon god glared at Spike.

"Are you doubting my senses, half-breed?"

Spike winced. Even looking like small, fragile Fred, Illyria was still terrifying. Just then something caught his eye.

"Oi, look, it's one of those wizard blokes," he said, motioning towards an alley a few blocks away from Reno's.

Illyria stopped glaring at him and looked in time to see a large, blond man with green sunglasses and deep purple robes walking out of the alley. He weaved his way through the crowded street, towards the shop.

"Is he using some sort of spell to make sure no one notices?" Spike asked thoughtfully. "I mean, I know this is New York, but doesn't anyone think the nancy wearing purple robes is somewhat odd?"

Illyria's eyes flashed.

"There is magic covering his aura," she said.

"Thought so. Though, you'd think it'd just be easier to wear something a tad less conspicuous."

The wizard entered the coffee shop. Moments later, Spike and Illyria felt a slight surge of magic.

"A transportation spell was just activated," Illyria announced. "The human's presence is gone."

"So it's portal of some sorts then. At least we know, we've got the right place." Spike sat down on the grass and leaned against the tree. He shut his eyes. "Nothing to do but wait then."

Illyria remained standing with her arms crossed.

Spike was in the middle of eavesdropping on two university students discussing their professor's rather large endowments, when there was suddenly a familiar shimmer of magic. Illyria stiffened. Spike groaned.

"Don't say it, Blue. Don't bloody say it."

* * *

The air was dense with nervousness and fear. And in the case of Bellatrix Lestrange, excitement. It was no secret that she wasn't particularly fond of her brother-in-law, what with his managing to wrangle out of an Azkaban sentence while she spent 15 years rotting there. Although, truth be told, she was never overly fond of the man even when she was younger. Perhaps it was because they were too much alike, that they were natural rivals for the favour of their master, or because he had managed to steal the attention of her younger sister when it was once hers alone to enjoy. Or possibly it was because his hair was so thick and shiney, so unlike the tangled mess that rested on her head.

What ever the reason for her dislike, there was nothing Bellatrix loved more than to watch the Dark Lord force Lucius Malfoy to admit he'd failed him. Normally, Lucius would rather cut off an arm than admit there was something he couldn't do, but one simply didn't bullshit the Dark Lord, no matter what the circumstance. Not even when there was an ocean between you.

"Help me understand this, Lucius. Are you reporting that your sole accomplishment after three days in America is getting our most valuable supporter killed?" the Dark Lord asked calmly. Lucius's floating green head flinched inside the fireplace.

The door quietly opened and Angela walked in with a house elf. The house elf snapped its fingers and a tea service appeared on the dark mahogany table by the fireplace. With a pop, the elf was gone, leaving Angela to serve the tea. No one paid any attention to her.

"My Lord, the American demons did not appear interested in an alliance with us," he said, his composure back. "Most of them ignore the Wizarding World completely-"

"I do not wish to hear excuses, Lucius!" The Dark Lord gave the blond head a hard look before accepting a cup of tea from Angela.

"My apologies. The vampires did seem to like the idea of an army. I heard many of them mention travelling to London."

"Good. Now how exactly did one of them manage to kill our contact?"

"He appeared half-way through the meeting in New York and the others seemed to know him, or had at least heard of him. They treated him as a strong opponent, a fellow master vampire. Naturally, I assumed he was interested in our cause and since the demon who was with him knew of magic, I allowed them to join us."

"Apparently your instincts were wrong."

"Yes, my lord. Although, it was actually the demon who killed my contact."

"What do you know of them?"

"The vampire introduced himself as Spike, however the demon never gave a name. In fact, she didn't say very much at all and I have been unable to find any sort of reference to her or any similar demons anywhere."

Bellatrix smiled. Lucius knew nothing; this was going to be fun. Angela offered her a cup of tea, which she took and settled back further into the chair she was sitting in, watching Lucius try not to show just how nervous and frightened he was.

"What did the demon look like?"

"Well, sir, that was the oddest part of all . . . she didn't really so much as look like a demon as non-human. If I may, I took the liberty of bottling a memory of her for you to see."

"Angela, take it and bring it to me."

"Yes, my lord," Angel said and walked over to the fireplace. She took the small vial presented to her by Lucius's green hand and then handed it to the Dark Lord with a slight bow. Then she went back to her previous duties.

While Angela served tea to Severus Snape, Lord Voldemort summoned a pensieve and poured the memory inside. Then he whispered a spell and suddenly a greenish grey image appeared, hovering in mid-air. It was an image of a thin, young-looking woman with long blue hair wearing a dark red, skin-tight bodysuit. Her eyes were hard and inhuman.

The Dark Lord frowned. So did Bellatrix. She'd been doing quite a bit of research on demons over the past two weeks. Not that she enjoyed staring at old books, in fact she downright hated it - it reminded her too much of being a student in that daft magic school - however, demons were such fun to read about. They were so old, so powerful and were such wonderful inspiration for her own work. However, none of the demons she'd read about looked like this.

"Angela? Is there anything the matter, child?" Bellatrix was surprised by the actual kindness she heard in the Dark Lord's voice as he asked.

Angela was standing perfectly still holding two teacups and staring blankly at the image dangling in mid-air. She blinked and looked to the Dark Lord.

"I-I'm sorry my Lord," she said with a slight bow. "I just. . . she looks so human. I was expecting a demon to look more. . . demonic."

"Yes, she does look rather unusual. . ." the Dark Lord gave Angela one more suspicious glance before turning back to the bobbing green head of his servant. "Lucius, are you sure she's a demon. . . the Muggle here is right, she looks too human. Perhaps she is only a half-demon."

"It is possible my Lord. . . except that one of the demon lords seemed to recognize her," Lucius said. "He also mentioned something about her and the vampire destroying something called the Circle of the Black Thorne in Los Angeles. They refused to explain what it was, but I got the impression it was a secret organization of demons. It could be the reason why Los Angeles is in such chaos at the moment. However, the demon also mentioned that while the one was destroyed, there were others."

"Perhaps. In any case, you have a week to find yourself a new contact within the American Wizarding World. If you cannot replace Krankton, then you will return to England, where you can be of use."

"Yes, my Lord," the floating Lucius head bowed at his master's dismissal and disappeared from the flames.

Having finished serving tea, Angela picked up the now-empty tray and quietly exited the room.

"Lestrange," the Dark Lord said a few moments later. Bellatrix watched her husband straighten himself before bowing.

"Yes, my Lord?"

"Put together a team to research this Circle of the Black Thorne. If this is in fact a powerful demon organization, then I want to know more about it."

"I will do so immediately, my lord."

"Good. You may all leave now."

There was a shuffle of robes and the clinking of teacups as the Dark Lord's inner circle quickly got up and walked out of the room, leaving their master sitting in his high-backed green leather chair staring pensively into the flames.

* * *

Faith and Xander sat side-by-side on the bright blue loveseat Buffy had insisted on getting, much to Giles's dismay. Both were hunched over and staring into the steaming mugs of coffee they held in front of them. Xander shook his head and blinked, opening his eyes as wide as he could in the process. Then he reached for the box of donuts, which sat on the coffee table in front of him.

And hit the lamp next to the box.

Faith snickered. Xander glared at her as he shook his hand before grabbing a chocolate dipped donut.

Lori sat nearby in a big brown leather chair and ignored both of them. She had one jean-clad leg crossed over the other and a giant, greenish tome resting over it. Gold letters on its cover proclaimed it as _Hellmouths: A History_. Two smaller books lay on the side table beside her chair, underneath her empty mug. They were entitled _Roads to Hell _and _Sunnydale: The Bocca del Inferno_.

Just then five girls entered the room, chatting merrily amongst each other. One of them, a dark-haired girl with curly hair wearing a blue bandana immediately spotted the box on the coffee table.

"Oooh, donuts!" she exclaimed and quickly grabbed a vanilla dipped donut covered in sprinkles.

"Hey, so did you two find anything?" another one of them asked the two human zombies on the loveseat.

"Oh yeah," Xander replied. "We're not sure what we've found, but things definitely aren't of the norm in jolly ol' England."

"Sweet!"

Everyone turned to stare incredulously at the slim carrot-top who was now smiling at them sheepishly.

"What? It's just that, well. ..things have gotten a bit dull since Sunnydale," Vi explained.

"You know, most people would consider not being hunted down a good thing," said Xander.

"Depends on who's doin' the huntin', Cyclops," Faith said with a grin.

"I think it's fairly safe to say that anything hunting a slayer isn't exactly a fuzzy bunny," Giles said as he walked into the room.

"Unless of course it's a giant killer fuzzy bunny of doom," Xander commented. Giles gave him a look. "Hey, it could happen!"

"Now normally I'd deny that possibility, but with you lot I've learned not to because you're fully capable of going out to find one just to prove me wrong." There was a chorus of chuckles. "Lori, have you managed to find useful?"

"Well, I'll admit to becoming fascinated with the subject," Lori said as she closed the book on her lap and looked up at Giles. "I've found lots of interesting information, but nothing useful, no."

"Hi everyone!" Dawn said as she walked into the room. She stopped right in front of the coffee table, placed her hands on her hips and gave Faith and Xander a hard look. "I have just come back early from what was probably the only shopping expedition I'm going to have while in England, so you two better have something apocalypse-like to tell me about!"

"Nah, don't worry D, there's always something evil around that needs killin'," Faith said, leaning back and bringing one leg up to rest on the loveseat's cushions. Dawn's eyes narrowed at her.

"That's not news Faith. Lived in Sunnydale most of my life, remember? The whole 'evil is out there' thing? Got that t-shirt practically tattooed on me."

"Woah, Dawnie, stop," Xander said, putting his hands up in surrender. "We really did find some really wiggy things. Not really sure how and if they fit into your prophesy, but something is definitely going on. Could be an apocalypse, or it could be the Loch Ness Monster having a tooth ache."

"Xander, why don't you actually tell us what you two found," Giles suggested while he cleaned his glasses. Xander noticed this and grinned.

"Sure thing, G-man!"

"And do stop calling me that."

* * *

Illyria stopped and Spike growled at the coffee shop, this time simply entitled "Reno's". It looked rather like a pink and blue Starbucks with a star-shaped logo. It looked decidedly out-of-place in the middle of the industrial park they'd found it in.

"Right then, screw waiting for sunset," Spike said. "Dusk is good enough for me. Let's go in."

Illyria stood and watched the vampire dash across the parking lot. Then she calmly followed at a much more leisurely pace. She watched Spike jump around in the shade of a pink and blue-striped canopy, flapping his leather duster in an attempt to blow away the smoke that had started rising from his body during his sprint.

By the time she reached him, he wasn't smoking anymore. Not that she would've cared either way. She walked past him and through the shop's glass doors. Spike followed, sniffing as he entered.

Reno's was, in every single way, an ordinary store that sold coffee, coffee derivatives, tea and some mediocre biscuits and muffins. There were some blue metal tables and chairs off to the side and a few pretty prints on the walls. The most prominent feature of the shop was the large pink board at the head of the store, which displayed the selection and prices of various beverages.

"Oh, hello, can I help you?" a young blonde called out from behind the counter. She looked no older than 17 and had her hair done up in pigtails, which stuck out from either side of a blue hat.

"Yeah, we'll have a latte and a portal to Middlearth," Spike drawled. The girl looked momentarily confused. Spike rolled his eyes. "Look, we 'eard on the streets that this 'ere place'll get us to some sort of Wizarding World. So, just tell how to get there and we'll be off."

"I'm sorry, I'm afraid I have no idea what you're talking about," the girl said and smiled brightly.

"You reek of lies," Illyria said. "If I tear out your tongue, then you shall be able to tell them no more."

Spike morphed into his demon face.

"What she said, only with emphasis on the big, sharp, pointy sword in my hand." He held the sword up and made a show of examining it before looking the girl in the eye. "Do you 'ave any idea how many times you can stab a person before they actually bleed to death?"

The girl paled. Her hand shook horribly as she pointed towards the door to the washrooms.

"J-just tap the figure on the door three times."

Spike raised an eyebrow. Then he looked at Illyria and shrugged.

"Well, I suppose I've done barmier things before," he said as he replaced his sword in its sheath.

Illyria, meanwhile, was intently staring at the washroom door.

"I sense a barrier around the door," she finally said. "Perhaps to hide the presence of a portal."

She walked up to the door and slowly raised her hand to the female stick figure on the door. Spike came up behind her to watch. As instructed, she tapped the figure three times and suddenly the edges of the door began to glow. It lasted only a few seconds and then it faded and the door sprang open. Illyria grabbed the handle and opened it all the way. She walked through with Spike following right afterwards.

Inside the coffee shop, the blonde girl sighed in relief.

"I should've known a vampire wouldn't come here for the coffee," she grumbled.

On the other side of the door, Spike stopped and stared at the bustling street. Beside him, Fred's body had a very 'Illyria' look on its face as she observed the passing people. It garnered her a few odd looks, however since she and Spike stuck out like a pair of sore, bright orange thumbs anyway, it didn't really matter.

The street itself managed to look rather normal; it was full of small shops, stands selling everything from jewellery to vegetables and people walking, talking and buying everything imaginable. There were families with small children carrying large shopping bags, lovers strolling casually hand-in-hand as they enjoyed the cool evening air and others quickly grabbing a few necessities before heading home after a long day at work. The street lights were on, filling the greyness of dusk with a soft, golden glow.

Perhaps it was the ordinary every-day appearance of everything that made the scene Spike and Illyria were watching so surreal. For a start, the people were all wearing robes. Yes, some of the younger ones were wearing them open, displaying their jeans and bright-coloured t-shirts underneath. But they were still wearing them.

Spike could remember meeting and/or killing a lot of people who wore robes, but most of them either lived 200 years ago, or were about as ordinary as the Sunnydale High School basement. The only place he actually expected to see this many robes nowadays was at demon worshipping ceremonies. And they usually just stuck to the traditional black or dark brown. He'd certainly never seen any demon-worshipper wear yellow or lilac.

Several old ladies passed them. Spike ignored the odd look one of them shot his way in favour of staring at the pointed hats she and her friends were wearing.

Illyria, meanwhile had gone from analysing the people to reading the shop names: Potions Emporium, Filliwig's Discount Robes, Spellwork Spellbooks.

"Yup, definitely not in Kansas anymore," she said, sounding like Fred. Spike growled.

"Don't even think about calling me Toto," he said. He paused. "Gotta ask though: is this like, Halloweenland or something? Are we even in the same dimension?"

"Yes," Illyria answered. Then she cocked her head and stared straight ahead.

"Red would just love this, actually Zeppo-boy probably would too. This place is bloody hillarious!" When there was no response from his companion Spike turned to her. "Illyria? Ill-"

Illyria didn't even blinked. Spike sighed. She could very well stay like that for quite a while, examining at length whatever it was that had caught her fancy.

"Great, we land in Oz and Dorothy goes off on a ruddy mind-freeze," he muttered, digging through his pockets for his cigarettes. "There'd better not be any flying monkeys. I hate monkeys."

He lit a cigarette and waited.

* * *

Xander and Faith finished their story and looked around the room at people's reactions, which ranged from curious to contemplative to excited.

"So you're saying there was a massive explosion big enough to completely demolish most of the village and pull apart an apple orchard and no one remembers what happened?" Lori asked incredulously.

"Certainly brings back memories of Sunnydale," Dawn said. "Although that's kinda extreme even for it and it was, like, an established Hellmouth and everything."

"Actually the whole thing was kinda Men in Blackish really," Xander said. "I mean it wasn't that they couldn't remember that night, but it was like their memories of it weren't real."

"Yeah, it was totally weird; they all said the exact same thing," Faith agreed. "And it was, like completely vague too, yo. I mean, you'd think something like that would be kinda memorable."

"Just a bit," the slayer with the bandana said. "Unless they were all drunk that night of course."

"I somehow doubt it," Giles interrupted. "Faith, what about this odd demonic feeling you've been sensing around the city. Did you feel it there too?"

Faith thought about that for a moment.

"Yeah, I did."

"Well, the locals sure were as nasty as the London locals," Xander commented.

"Then it can't be a hellmouth," said Giles. "A hellmouth's influence tends to be concentrated in a particular area. Demons and vampires and such can feel its pull from a distance, but it's more of an instinct really. This seems to be too wide-spread." He looked to Lori. "Unless of course you've found something that says otherwise. .. "

Lori shook her head.

"Nope, I've got nothing," she said. "Based on what I read, I'd say no one really knows how hellmouths are formed. They almost seem to be a sort of natural supernatural phenomenon. Something that was already there, but someone stuck a seal onto to control its energy and keep the things from Hell in Hell."

"A natural supernatural phenomenon?" Xander said quietly. "You know somewhere in there I'm sure there's a huge contradiction just waiting to be pointed out."

"So no step-by-step instructions on how to create your own hellmouth and what happens when you do?" Dawn asked.

"Unfortunately not. . ." Lori paused. "No, wait, I take that back. Fortunately there's no such thing. I hope. The last thing we'd need is a book telling all the evil things out there how to create a cradle of evil in their own backyard."

"Right, so no new hellmouth. . . that's a good thing, right?" Vi said.

"Yes, it is," Giles answered. "Except that now we are truly back to square one and no theories on the table as to what's going on other than a prophesy we can't decipher."

Everyone groaned.

"Well, I guess the first place to start is widespread memory alterations," Lori commented. "A spell of some kind possibly."

"Yes, I'll help you with that. . . I researched that topic extensively a few years back," Giles said.

"Oh, why's that?"

"That would be me," said Dawn, raising her hand.

"Right, the monks."

"Also Connor, Angel's son," Faith said. "'Cause I met him and he said he knew me, 'cause we'd met, but Hell knows I couldn't fuckin' remember it."

"Yes, but from what you've described we're either looking for an amateur spell caster or a much less complicated and powerful spell."

"What about the place itself?" Dawn asked. "Could someone be using magic to cover up what really happened there."

"Well we took pictures, so maybe there's a clue somewhere," said Xander, pulling a small digital camera out of his jacket pocket.

"Oh, and what about that mysterious gas leak?" Giles suddenly remembered.

"Whatever it was, it was long gone by the time we got there," Faith said. "And, big surprise, no one remembers seeing it."

"Pity, for some reason it strikes me as something that could be important. . . Oh well, let's get going." He turned to the slayers. "Vi, I want you and Gwen to join the group already out in East London and fill them in. I want you to be extra thorough."

Vi and bandana girl nodded.

"Faith, I know you're tired, but could you go out with Beth to King's Cross and patrol out from there?"

"Sure thing G-man."

"Don't call me that. Renata, you and Veronica patrol this area. Pick up Suzi on your way."

"Sure thing, we'll myek sure te gandie it ower well, liek," said a slightly plump girl with short black curly hair and a studded collar around her neck. She looked to the blonde next to her. "Reet Reni?"

"Ja," the blonde replied.

"Wonderful, and Lori, could you call the other girls, fill them in and ask them to give their areas a good sweep. I want everyone out tonight." Lori nodded. "Everyone else: research. Let's get to it, then."

The meeting adjourned and everyone headed off their separate ways. Except for Xander who merely waited until everyone else had left to place his mug onto the coffee table. Then he plopped down sideways so that he was laying down, curled up on the loveseat, and closed his eyes.

"Right, naptime," he muttered to himself. His features settled into a satisfied smile.

"Xander!" Giles yelled from the library.

The one-eyed man cursed under his breath. Slowly he got up from the sofa.

"I'm coming, I'm coming," he called back half-heartedly. Then he picked up his mug and looked inside. "Damn, I need more coffee."

Grabbing two donuts as he went, Xander shuffled his way out of the room.

* * *

The town clock in Long Compton struck eleven, however the two cloaked figures, who stood on a nearby ridge, didn't hear it. They could however feel the approach of midnight in the air. It was still subtle, nothing more than a gentle hum of magic that permeated the air, the trees, and each blade of grass. It would get stronger as time moved towards midnight, but for now it was merely a gentle prelude.

One of the figures had his arms crossed and was leaning against a large stone. It was one of many on the ridge, rising from the ground like a circle of proud diminutive limestone knights, frozen in time as they prepared to charge towards some nameless battle. The figure partially blended in with the stone he leaned against as both were three feet tall. He faced away from the circle of stones and towards a single tall stone, which glowed on its own in the moonlight.

Not far away, his tall companion stood with his face to the heavens, his eyes closed as he soaked in the beams of an almost-full moon. His hood had fallen back slightly, making it possible to see his face.

His skin was pale, as if it hadn't seen the sun in too many years to count. His long, dark hair was brushed away from his face and seemed to be tied back into a ponytail at the base of his neck. In the embrace of the moonlit night, he looked beautiful. Like a dark prince awaiting the arrival of his goddess.

"By the prickling of my thumbs, something wicked this way comes," he said with a dreamy smile.

"If you truly must quote Shakespeare, could you at least pick a different play?" an impossibly deep voice rumbled through the night as the smaller man spoke.

"Something is rotten in the State of Denmark."

"Something is always rotten in Denmark," a new voice said. It was high-pitched and raspy. Both figures looked towards an old elder tree, standing between where they stood and the single, tall stone further away.

"Lady Zhur," the shorter one uncrossed his arms and bowed slightly to the newcomer. "Welcome back to this dimension, how was your trip?"

"It went well, thank you Lord Belzak," the female voice answered as she stepped towards them from beneath the shadow of the tree.

"Have you heard the latest news?"

"About Dumbledore you mean?"

"Among other things."

Lady Zhur nodded.

"And the Potter boy?" the other one chimed in. "He's left his aunt and uncle's and means not to return."

"Yes. Unfortunately we cannot track him in the Wizarding World until he does something of note. However, he's probably spending the summer at either Grimmauld Place or the home of the Weasley family."

"I've been keeping a mystical eye out on Grimmauld Place. No one's been there since Albus Dumbledore's death."

"There's always the possibility he went back to Hogwarts.," Lord Belzak said. "After all, rumours say Dumbledore entrusted him with some great secret before his death."

"The boy is unimportant at the moment. He is too weak and too foolhardy. Even if Dumbledore told him of the Horocurxes, he has neither the power nor the experience to deal with them just yet."

"True, the prophesy clearly states the Lion cannot win against the Snake."

"Prophecies are finicky things; they have a tendency of not turning out the way you expect them to," a new voice said.

"Dermian, you're late," the deep-voiced one commented.

"I apologize Lord Belzak, Lady Zhur, Master MacNab," The newcomer bowed slightly to the assembled group. "The virgin sacrifice took longer than I'd anticipated."

Lord Belzak snorted. The other two simply nodded.

"However, I must disagree with you Lady Zhur," Dermain continued. "If we assume that Harry Potter is the Lion, then we cannot simply ignore his existence because he is young and inexperienced. We cannot risk Potter coming into contact with the other champions."

"Does Potter even count as a champion?" the tall man, Master MacNab, asked.

"Harry Potter is the champion of the Wizarding World." Everyone turned to face Lady Zhur. She looked around and smirked. "However, the reason they chose him was because of an accident he was too young to remember. It does not mean he is powerful, but graced with incredible luck."

"So the spell on his family will remain then?"

Lady Zhur shot MacNab an annoyed look.

"Of course. What if he were to somehow find out they were under a spell and that his aunt wasn't really as bad as she was acting? No, no, Dermain is right, best not to give him any excuses to look towards the Muggle world; the farther he stays away from it, the better."

* * *

Spike was onto his third cigarette when Illyria suddenly snapped out of her trance and began walking away. Spike rolled his eyes and threw his half-smoked cigarette to the ground before following her.

They weaved through the crowd easily since it was slowly dispersing anyway, everyone on their way home for dinner. Spike felt like growling at all the people staring at the two of them, but decided they didn't really need to draw even more attention to themselves from all the magic wooden stick wielders.

He followed Illyria through a dark, narrow alley. It ended and he emerged in what looked like it could've been an entirely different city. Spike stopped for a moment and breathed in the dark aura lapping at him like a wave of water on a calm day at the beach. It wasn't more powerful than the magic he'd sensed since they'd entered this magical part of New York, but it was definitely darker.

The streets were dirtier than the ones they'd just come from. There were no bright, bold lights in the shop windows, no colourful displays meant to grab a passerby's attention, and only a few lamps scattered about. Even the few people present were shuffling around, wearing dark hoods over their heads, as if they didn't want to be recognized.

"Now this is what a real underground magical community should look like," Spike said. Then he spied Illyria turning the corner, quite a ways ahead of him.

"Oi Blue, wait up!" he called and jogged after her.

He caught up to her moments later and was actually rather surprised at what he saw. She had her hands up in front of her, looking harmless and vulnerable, surrounded as she was by a group of youths in black robes, all with green and silver snakes stitched onto the backs of them. They were leering menacingly at her.

"Now come on boys, y'all don't really want any trouble, right?" she asked with a nervous smile that made Spike's momentarily miss Fred all over again. He shook it off.

"Then cooperate and there won't be any trouble, Mudblood," one of the boys, a large redhead who could've easily passed as a football player, said.

Spike smirked.

"I don't think that's quite how she meant it, mate," he said, casually walking up to the group. The boys turned to look at him. One of them sneered.

"Oh look, another Mudblood," he said with a condescending air while he flicked some of his long, blond curls out of his eyes. "This place is just crawling with 'em tonight."

"Well, we'll just have to do something about that then, won't we?" the redhead agreed. All four of them took out their magic sticks.

"I really wish demon-girl was here to make an entirely appropriate phallic symbol comment," Spike muttered, rolling his eyes.

The boys had apparently decided Illyria wasn't the threat and stopped paying attention to her. Therefore, none of them noticed her stop smiling and her features harden. In fact they didn't notice her until she suddenly walked up to the redhead and snatched his wand away.

"Hey!" the tall boy exclaimed. "Give that back!"

He reached out to grab it away from her, but she blocked his hand without so much as looking up. Her other hand held the wand as she examined it. The other three didn't seem to know whether to point their wands at Illyria or Spike.

"This is the extent of your power?" she asked.

The boy who had sneered at them earlier widened his eyes in surprise.

"Holy fuck, they're Muggles!" he exclaimed.

"How'd they get in here then?" the short, chubby boy with red-streaked brown hair next to him asked.

"Went out for a coffee," Spike answered.

"Reno's? You got in through Reno's?" the redhead looked completely confused as he stared at Spike with a shocked expression. "But Muggles aren't supposed to be able to see that."

"Maybe they're Squibs," the last one suggested. He had a dark blue mohawk and small, blue-rimmed glasses. Spike growled at him.

"All right, enough with the insults I don't bloody understand!"

He narrowed his eyes menacingly at the human children, congratulating himself when he saw two of them flinch slightly. Just then Illyria tossed the redhead's wand to the side and let go of his hand.

"Hey watch it, you stupid Muggle!" the wand's owner cried.

"It does not interest me," Illyria said. "It is too weak."

"Weak!" the kid with long, curly blond hair yelled. Spike smirked. Their reactions were better than the blond's from the previous night.

"How dare you call me weak, you pathetic Muggle!" The redheaded jock looked livid.

"You wouldn't know real power if it bit you in the fuckin' ass!" mohawk-guy cried.

Illyria's eyes flashed and Spike grinned. He was looking forward to whatever she'd do to them. He just hoped she didn't overdo it too much.

"I really wouldn't aggravate her if I were you," Spike drawled. After all, they were only kids; they deserved fair warning.

"Shut the fuck up Mugg-ah!"

Not that he actually expected them to listen.

"What the. . . ?" the curly-haired boy exclaimed. He and the others stared as their tall, redheaded friend was suddenly dangling a foot above the ground because of the small woman currently holding him by the neck. The redhead, meanwhile, had gone several shades paler as he found himself staring into the cold, ageless eyes of Illyria, the Demon God King with a mixture of confusion and horror.

"B-but wasn't she a Muggle?" the small, plump boy asked. He shrieked as Spike came up behind him and placed a hand on his shoulder. Then he noticed the terrified looks on Curly and Mohawk's faces. Slowly, he turned his head.

And found himself staring into a pair of inhuman, yellow eyes. His gaze slid downwards to the fangs being bared at him. He gulped. Spike sniffed, breathing in the sweet aroma of fear pouring off the boy.

"P-please don't hurt me," he said in a small voice. Spike smirked.

"We'll see how things go. . . what's your name kid?"

"O-oscar sir."

"Sir, huh? Don't think I've ever had anyone call me that before. Kinda like the sound of it. . . "

"Will these young humans have the answers we seek?" Illyria asked, eyeing the redhead. "You also have a name?"

"Eric," her captive managed to rasp out.

"Blue, luv," Spike said, "he might be able to answer you better if you weren't trying to turn his vocal chords into mash."

Illyria let go and Eric fell to the ground, crumbling to his knees and gasping for breath. The curly blond wizard ran to him and knelt down beside his friend. After making sure Eric was going to be all right, he stood up and pointed his want at Illyria. His eyes were hard and full of anger.

"Who are you?" he asked evenly.

"I am Illyria," she said and then motioned to her companion. "The half-breed is Spike."

"Be careful Phil," Eric rasped. Then he began to cough violently.

"Don't worry, I'm not a duelling champion for nothing," Phil, the curly blond, replied.

"Holy fucking shit!" mohawk-guy suddenly exclaimed. Behind his glasses, his eyes were impossibly wide as he stared at Spike. "S-spike? You. .. you're William the Bloody!"

Spike blinked. Then he broke out in an absolutely delighted smile.

"You've 'eard of me then? And 'ere I thought you magic folk didn't care. I mean, the idiots last night were completely clueless. Maybe I should've ran them through with railroad spikes to jog their memories. . ."

"Nah, Isaac here's just got a photographic memory and a thing for vampires," Phil said, rolling his eyes. He was trying very hard not to seem nervous.

Isaac blushed. Spike chuckled.

"Really? Well, least he's got taste."

"Um, I wrote a paper on you last year for Dark Creatures class," Isaac said quietly.

"Oh?" Spike let go of Oscar, much to said boy's immense relief, and walked over to Isaac. "And what did you say about me?"

Now it was Isaac's turn to gulp nervously.

"Well, er, that you're the childe of Drusilla the Mad and spent a lot of time travelling with her, Angelus the Scourge of Europe and his sire Darla across the world. You're a direct descendent of the line of Aurelius, one of the most powerful vampire bloodlines in the world. You, um, came to America in the 19th century and received the nickname Spike because of your, um. .. habit with skewering your victims with railroad spikes. . . " Spike could hear Isaac's heartbeat speeding up. "A-and you were. . . um. . . spotted in China during the Boxer Rebellion. . ."

"Kid, just skip to the part where I killed meself two slayers. .. that is the highlight of my rather illustrious career as an evil master vampire after all." Spike took another step closer to the terrified boy.

"Slayer?" The boy frowned. "You mean like a vampire slayer?" Suddenly the terror in his eyes disappeared and the four-eyed boy looked excited. "You mean that isn't just a legend?"

"Well, yeah, it's a legend. .. but it's a real one."

"Wow, really? That's incredible! All the books I read referred to the Slayer as a vampire legend created to scare fledglings into obeying their sires, that her existence has never been proven."

Spike snorted.

"Sounds like the only thing those books are good for is kindling."

"That's what I've been saying for years," Phil mumbled.

"How could a wizard not know of slayers?" Illyria suddenly asked. "They are everywhere, covering the world. Their power whispers through the air. It is a part of the darkness that binds existence; the demon in their blood is singing into the night."

"Apparently these wizard blokes aren't quite smarter than the average roadkill. Took Lucy 'bout 15 minutes to figure out we were dangerous the other night."

"You are referring to Lucius Malfoy," Illyria stated.

"Lucius Malfoy?" Oscar asked. "You met Lucius Malfoy. . . last night?"

Spike looked over to the boy.

"Yeah, 'im and his cloaked friends. Crashed their party we did. You've heard of 'im?"

"Well, fuck me," Phil said in astonishment. "You're the ones who murdered Senator Krankton."

"Eh? Who's he then?"

Oscar walked up to a nearby trashcan and pulled out a crumpled newspaper. He turned it to the front page and passed it to Spike, who raised an eyebrow at the moving pictures. Illyria walked up to him and the blond vampire angled the paper so that she could also get a look at it.

"Hey, what do you know, the idiot was actually important," Spike said with amusement. "Head of Magical Creature Control? Don't think I like the sound of that. I'm glad we killed him."

The boys looked at each other.

"If you didn't know who he was, then why'd you kill him?" Eric asked.

"He was annoying me," Illyria answered. Spike chuckled at how frightened that simple statement made the boys.

"Know what boys? How 'bout we take this conversation someplace more comfortable. There's got to be a demon bar or something 'round here somewhere. We'll answer your questions if you answer ours."

"Ok," Isaac answered immediately.

"Are you nuts!" Oscar yelled at him. "He's one of the bloodiest vampires who ever lived, er, existed and she's. .. well I don't really know what she is, but they killed a fuckin' senator last night and. . ."

"Look kid, the senator was meeting with demons in a dark alley to build alliances for some Dark Lord fellow. That doesn't really give 'im a very good resume in my book. And as for the whole 'bloodiest vampire' bit, I kinda gave all that up couple years back. Work with the Slayer now, doing the whole Champion, saving the world bit."

"You're a good vampire?" Eric asked.

"Yup, got a soul and everything."

"So, you're like Angelu-" Isaac began.

"I am nothing like Angelus!" Spike growled.

"Oh, uh. . . sorry.. . "

"So you won't be killing us then?" Phil asked.

"No," Illyria answered. "We have no need to kill you."

Phil and Eric exchanged a look.

"Then all right, it's a deal," Eric said. "We'll answer whatever questions you have if you answer ours."

"Wonderful!" Spike said with a wide smile. Illyria nodded. She closed her eyes for a few moments. Spike raised an eyebrow and waited.

Moments later, she opened her eyes and turned around, walking away without a word.

"I think she's found our demon bar," Spike told the boys and then followed her.

The boys looked at each other, shrugged and followed the demonic pair.

* * *

"So we concentrate on Voldemort then," Dermain said, eager to stop talking about a four-eyed schoolboy. "Did you bring the books?"

"Yes, I have them," Lady Zhur answered. "They weren't easy to find, but most things are possible after you've tortured about a dozen people."

The three males in the group chuckled.

"He has sent people to search for the Gem of Amara," Lady Zhur said.

"'Cause Holy Grail searches always go so well. . . " MacNab rolled his eyes.

"Didn't Angelus have it the last we'd heard of it?" Dermain asked thoughtfully.

"Yes, and since he didn't use it against that Jasmine creature, then we can assume he destroyed it a long time ago," Lord Belzak commented. "Which means there is no chance Voldemort will find it."

"This works well for us," Lady Zhur said. A malicious smile graced her smooth features. "It gives us the perfect opportunity to push him in the right direction."

"Are we sure, we're not acting a tad prematurely?" MacNab asked carefully. "After all, the Ancients-"

"The Four Ancients have already begun gathering," Lord Belzak interrupted. The others turned to him. "One of them has been spotted in America and another is already here in England."

"And what of the other two?" Lady Zhur asked.

"They have not yet surfaced. However, these are powerful beings. . . if they wish to hide then they will not be found until they desire it."

"I must admit, I am rather excited at the prospect of meeting them," MacNab said with a smirk. "Beings so powerful that neither time, nor magic, nor even the eternal sleep of death could destroy them."

"Do try to contain your excitement," Lord Belzak said dryly.

A slight breeze blew over the ridge. The four figures fell silent.

"Mother Shipton whispers that she feels an old magic wafting on the wind from London," Lady Zhur said after a pause. "Perhaps there is a second Ancient in England."

"Perhaps," Dermain said. "It would mean that events are unfolding rather quickly."

"Not necessarily. Three must meet before the Fourth can join them."

"I will search London," MacNab said. "But for now, we should leave. It is nearing midnight, I can feel the spirits of this place getting restless. They wish to come out and play."

"Agreed, I shall use my contacts in Knockturn Alley to get me in touch with the Death Eaters searching for the Gem of Amara," Dermain said.

"I shall have the texts delivered to you at sunrise," Lady Zhur said.

Before the next breeze could blow across the ridge, the four figures were gone. As the final chimes of midnight sounded, their darkness evaporated into the all-encompassing Earth.

* * *

Author's Notes:

**"By the prickling. .. " **- Yup, _MacBeth _again. This time Act IV, Scene i. What can I say? It's one of my favourites.

**"Something is rotten in the state of Denmark" **- This time it's _Hamlet,_ Act I Scene iv he's quoting. Also by Shakespeare. . . in case you've been living under a large pink rock and didn't know that.

**"Sure thing, we'll myek sure te gandie it ower well, liek" **- Hehe, yes, that's in English. More specifically, Veronica there's speaking in Geordie, a dialect spoken in North East England and which, from what I can figure, originated in the mining communities in that area. Translated, what she said is: "Sure thing, we'll make sure to look it over well" and **"Reet, Reni?" **is "Right, Reni?". I just love all the things you can find on the internet.

In case anyone was wondering, the place the four "Shadowy Figures" met really does exist. It's one of the lesser known stone circles in England known as the **Rollright Stones**: they're small stones (the one Lord Belzak was leaning against would've been one of the tallest ones). According to legend a witch named Mother Shipton cursed a king and his army and turned them into the stones. Then she became an elder tree growing halfway between the circle of knights and the King Stone. Also according to legend, the knights turn human at midnight and dance around with the spirits and faeries that also come out at that time. My thanks to **Gwen**, who pointed me towards this wonderful cultural landmark that just seemed so perfect for this scene.

Also, I realize there are quite a few **original characters **in this chapter. And I know someone out there's going to complain. But please don't let them discourage you from this story. Some of them are here only for the purpose of this particular chapter, in order to move the plot along. The focus is still on the Buffy and Harry Potter characters.

Please review! I love reviews! Even critical ones. . . hell, especially critical ones, they make me think.


	5. Chapter 5

I really should have had this up a lot sooner, but life got in the way. Or rather a bone infection that landed me in hospital for almost a week and unable to use my left hand. I've realized that hands are rather useful things. Anyway, thanks to everyone who reviewed my last chapter and I hope you enjoy this one.

Thanks to my two wonderful betas: **Lady Sunflower** and **Avocado Farmer**.

Disclaimer: I own neither Harry Potter nor the Buffyverse.

* * *

**The Prophesy of the Four**

**Chapter 5 - **Encounters

Spike was definitely enjoying himself.

The bar was smelly, noisy, had bad lighting and the floor was covered in stains from liquor, blood and other, not as easily identifiable liquids. There was some sort of music playing in the background, but it was hard to tell what it was supposed to be. In short, it was just like every other demon bar Spike had ever been to. With the possible exception of Caritas. But then again, Caritas had been the exception to just about everything.

Illyria, on the other hand, was annoyed by the rowdy, drunken patrons, who had, in her opinion, allowed themselves to become just as bad as the humans who ruled this world: weak and useless. She detested places such as these even more than the human-infested cities of this new world she'd been resurrected into. They were a constant reminder of just how low the demon race had fallen since her reign.

Now that they'd been sitting in the bar for about two hours and were still alive, the four boys they were with seemed to have relaxed somewhat. They had been a bit shocked at first when they walked into The Black Fang and realized that when Spike had said demon bar, he really did mean a bar full of demons. Watching Illyria literally rip off the head of a large demon who'd tried to harass them shortly after they'd entered, hadn't helped their uneasiness. Although it had resulted in them not getting bothered by anyone else.

Spike had started off right away by asking them about the Wizarding world. Isaac, the only one of them, who wasn't completely terrified of the vampire, took over the explanations. Eventually, Phil and Eric also joined the conversation.

"Alright, so I think I've got this whole wizard thing figured out," Spike said finally. "Now what's up with this big bad wizard in England whose name no one wants to say?"

"Oh, you mean Voldemort?" Eric asked. "He's some sort of crazy puritan, who believes in pureblood superiority and wants to rid the Wizarding world of all Mudbloods."

"Wait, wasn't he defeated, like, fifteen years ago or somethin'?" Phil asked his friend.

"Yes, but he got resurrected by his followers two years ago," said Oscar. All eyes turned to him, with slight surprise in Spike's case since it was the first time the boy had spoken during the conversation. "The British Ministry of Magic spent a year denying it, but after him and his followers attacked the Ministry itself, they had no choice but to admit it. Of course, the Minister of Magic at the time, Cornelius Fudge, got booted out of office and now there's an ex-Auror named Rufus Scrimgeour in charge. So far, he doesn't really seem to be doing too well, You-Know-Who, er, I mean Voldemort's followers managed to kill Albus Dumbledore."

"Albus Dumbledore? That name sounds familiar. . ." said Phil.

"That's 'cause he's one of the most powerful wizards in the world, dumbass!" Isaac rolled his eyes. "We learnt about him in History, remember? He was one of the key fighters in the resistance against Voldemort. Apparently, the only wizard Voldemort feared."

"Oh, right."

"Wait, he's dead?!" Eric exclaimed.

"Yup," Oscar answered. "He was killed by a Death Eater spy back in June."

"Now, you seem to be quite knowledgeable 'bout these things," Spike pointed out with a raised eyebrow.

"Well, my, uh, dad is a political reporter for the _National Wizarding Post_. . ." He looked to his friends for help, but they all just gave him pointed looks. He sighed in defeat. "Oh fine, I'm a news junkie."

Spike chuckled.

"Well, that works out well for us," he said. "So, now that this Dumbledore bloke is gone, there's no one strong enough to oppose him?"

"Well, there's Harry Potter. . ."

"Harry Potter?!" said Phil. "I know they make a big deal of him in Europe, but get real. I mean, he's our age. He became a 'hero' for something that happened when he was still in a fuckin' crib. It was a fluke he can't possibly even remember!"

"Oi, I wouldn't be underestimating someone just 'cause of their age, mate," said Spike. "I've seen a bunch of girls your age and younger do some pretty impressive things, including saving the world."

"Well he's credited as saving the Wizarding world and defeating Voldemort when he was not even a year old," said Isaac. Oscar nodded. Spike conceded that was a bit young.

"The English papers are calling him the Chosen One and claiming there was a prophesy he's the only one who can defeat Voldemort."

Spike laughed. "The Chosen One, eh? Well now, do tell us about this Chosen One. . ."

* * *

The gloomy sky seemed rather symbolic for the city, matching the moods its inhabitants as they dragged their feet through downtown London. It wasn't raining yet, but the humidity hung thick in the air, attempting to suffocate anyone unfortunate enough to be outside.

"Man, this humidity is killer," Vi said as she licked at her strawberry ice cream cone.

"Welcome to London," said her curly-haired companion with a mouthful of chocolate ice cream.

The two slayers were relishing their freedom from the confines of the dreaded Watcher's Council's library. Early this morning, as a desperate attempt to get away, Vi had pointed out that many of the strange 'accidents' had taken place in broad daylight, therefore having it make sense to patrol during the day. Even if it was really early.

Giles had given her an "I can see right through that ridiculously obvious excuse" look, but then agreed to let her and Gwen patrol. The ice creams they bought in place of breakfast once they arrived at their destinations were, naturally, to blend in with the tourist crowds.

"Gwen?" Vi said as they wandered aimlessly around.

"Uh huh?"

"What's that weird tower thing over there?" Gwen looked over to the tall, cylindrical building Vi was pointing to.

"Oh, that's the Gherkin."

"Gherkin? That's a weird name. I mean it looks kinda like an. . . . umm, pickle."

Gwen looked at Vi and blinked. Then she chuckled.

"Aaahh, silly, silly Americans: a gherkin is a pickle," she said, shaking her head.

"Oh." Vi looked back at the structure. "Well, at least that's better than what I thought it might mean."

"Well, it's also called the towering innuendo. . . "

Both slayers froze as the windows of a shop across the street, shattered. Before the glass had time to settle on the ground, a column of flames shot out into the street. A man in a business suit screamed as he was engulfed by them. Two unfinished ice cream cones fell to the ground as Vi and Gwen flew across the street, the opposite direction of most sane people.

"Okay, what were the odds my pathetic excuse to get out of the library would actually turn out to be right?" Vi asked.

"I have no idea," Gwen answered. "Do you think it's demons?"

"Don't know, but I think I feel magic and it isn't the good kind. So be careful."

"Right."

The girls stopped right beside the store and crouched down as they took out the short swords in their backpacks. Vi carefully peered into the store and then pulled back. She motioned for Gwen to back up.

"There's something coming out," she whispered.

"Shouldn't we fight it inside, away from regular people?" Gwen asked.

"Too much smoke."

A young woman ran out of the shop, screaming for help. The slayers got to their feet, ready to pounce on whatever was chasing her. Suddenly, a green ray of light shot out of the shadows and hit her square in the middle of the back. She fell to the ground, lifeless eyes turned towards the two slayers. The girls stared.

"Oh my God!" Gwen breathed. She looked towards Vi. "Is she. . .?"

"Ok, now that's not cool," Vi said, her eyes narrowing in anger. She tightened the grip on her sword. Just then a figure wearing a black robes and a white mask emerged from the store.

"Shirley!!" a man's voice screamed. Two more black-robed figures walked out. There was a middle-aged man in a brown tweed jacket walking between them. He was staring at the body of the fallen woman in horror.

* * *

The Prime Minister of Britain looked at the clock on his office wall. It was ten o'clock. He'd been in the office for an entire hour and already he had a headache. He groaned and closed his eyes as he massaged his temples, trying to erase the image in his mind of the day's newspaper headlines.

A year of mysterious, random accidents and the public was calling for his head. He'd even had a few colleges and personal friends ask him, off the record, if they really were accidents. The Independent's political reporter, Charlie McGuire, a usually hot-headed, determined young man, seemed to be leaning towards a belief that the incompetence of one man, or government, could not have possibly caused such a large number of disasters. They went beyond incompetence, according to him. Unfortunately, not many people seemed to really be paying attention these days.

Most of all, the Prime Minister hated the sympathetic looks he'd been getting lately from Madeline Squire, the deputy-head of the opposition party. He knew he looked horrible, the stress and frustration had definitely taken its toll, but he hated being reminded how much it showed.

Sometimes, he just wished he'd have a nervous breakdown and get it over with.

In fact, it took all of his efforts to remain even remotely sane. He wanted to do what he could, even if all his efforts were useless. He snorted. Perhaps the idealist in him hadn't died after all.

He sighed and glanced up at the clock again, wondering whether it was too early for an aspirin. Just then there was a light knock at his door.

'Great,' he thought, 'my day's about to get worse already.'

"Enter," he called out.

The Death Eaters laughed at the man's distress.

"Mudbloods have no place in our society," one of them told their captive. "Your inferior blood taints us."

However, the man wasn't paying attention to him. His eyes were glued to the dead body of his daughter as tears streamed down his face. Slowly, he turned his head towards her killer. The black robes and faceless, white mask all terrified him once, but now none of it seemed important. With a morbid fascination, he watched the figure point his wand between his eyes.

"Don't worry, we won't leave you to grieve for long," he heard the one in front of him say. "Avada Ka- wha. . ?!"

The man blinked. He wasn't sure what had just happened, but suddenly the Death Eater's wand fell to the ground. He didn't think he'd seen any magic being cast. . .

"You know, I don't think anyone, who dresses that clichéd has any right to call someone else inferior, " a woman's voice with an American accent, stated.

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure the Lord of the Rings convention's not for another couple of months," came another female voice.

The Death Eater in front of him whirled to the side allowing the man to get a glimpse of his rescuers. Of all the things he'd expected, the two teenage girls in front of him weren't it. If they were wearing robes like his daughter's witch friends, he wouldn't be so surprised. However, the two girls were wearing jeans and t-shirts. One of them had a knitted hat on her head despite the humidity. She was tossing a stone to herself. The other girl had her dark, curly hair tied back with a bandana. They were both holding swords.

Most remarkably, neither one of them seemed fazed by the Death Eater's appearance. Yet they might as well have had 'Muggle' tattooed onto their foreheads. The man's eyes widened: they probably had no idea what they were dealing with.

"Run!" he yelled at them. "This isn't a game; they're dangerous!"

"So what else is new?" the girl with the hat said, rolling her eyes. She was the American.

"How dare you think you have the power to challenge us, Muggle!" the head Death Eater shouted now that he'd retrieved his wand from the ground. "You will pay for that."

"Muggle? Is that another weird British word for something?" the American asked her friend.

The other girl shrugged. "I've never heard it before."

"_Crucio_!"

The slayers easily avoided getting hit by the yellowish beam of light by jumping to opposite sides of the pavement. They immediately crouched down slightly, swords firmly in hand, their faces now serious. Deadly serious. There was a brief moment of eye contact, a set of curt nods, and the slayers charged at their enemy.

By now both had figured out the beams of light were magic spells and should be avoided at all costs. Thanks to their speed and instincts, dodging the spells wasn't difficult.

Vi took on the leader, grabbing his right wrist with her left hand and punching him in the nose with her right fist. He screamed as he dropped to his knees, holding his nose. Vi looked momentarily puzzled, but didn't have time to dwell on how easily he went down, because she noticed one of the other clocked men point his stick at her. She dived to the side, and rolled behind a small, red car.

As she sailed through the air, she thought she saw a small flash of light. She crouched behind the car and scanned the area. A bit further away from her she noticed a young man hiding behind a blue mini cooper. He was fiddling with his cell phone.

"I don't think the police are going to be much help," Vi muttered.

Cautiously, she edged to the side of the car to see how Gwen was doing. Suddenly, something collided with the side of the car. Vi jumped back a bit. She then got up and walked to the sidewalk. She smirked at the crumpled body of a masked man in black robes. She knelt down beside it.

"And behind mask number one, we have. . ." she said as she pulled the white mask off the man's face. She gaped. "Well I'll be damned. . . he's human!"

Behind her, she heard Gwen scream in pain. Vi whirled around. Gwen was on her knees, now gritting her teeth, and one of the magic users had his stick. . . no, wand, she corrected herself. . . pointed at her. Vi's hand gripped her sword tightly and her eyes narrowed. Seconds later, the sword was flying through the air.

Now it was the masked man's to scream in pain as her sword neatly severed his arm just below the elbow. Gwen relaxed as the excruciating pain left her body. She collapsed onto her hands, panting heavily.

"Are you all right?" she heard Vi call. She looked over to her fellow slayer and smiled weakly.

"I'll be okay," she answered and began to slowly get to her feet. Vi ducked another spell and ran over to her.

Vi reached Gwen and quickly looked her over. She was relieved to see the girl had no actual physical injuries. Then she felt it. The air around them had changed slightly. One look to Gwen and she knew she could also feel it. However, before the slayers could figure out what this odd feeling meant, they heard a series of 'pops' and standing around them were a bunch of new odd-looking people, wands at the ready. They were all wearing robes, but without the hoods and masks the first group had on.

The girls looked at the new arrivals in confusion. They reached for their knives. Their confusion turned into relief when the newcomers began to fight the black-robed group.

"Well, this is different. . ." said Vi.

Gwen nodded and the two slayers watched the magical fight. It didn't last long, as the masked group decided to beat a hasty retreat and disappeared with the same popping noises the others arrived with.

As Vi and Gwen were trying to decide whether or not to just disappear as per usual and pretend they were just innocent bystanders, they were approached by a young woman with short, green hair.

* * *

The door opened and his secretary walked in. The Prime Minister gritted his teeth. The tall black man was one of_ them_. A wizard placed inside his office to 'protect the poor, defenceless, Muggle leader'. Ironically, the only thing about said Muggle leader that was in danger, was his career. And at this point in time, that was probably a lost cause.

"Shacklebolt," he greeted his magical bodyguard. "I don't suppose you have anything to tell me about this latest 'accident' south of London from the Minister of Magic? You know, the supposed gas leak."

At the mention of the Minister of Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt's eyes went wide and he quickly closed the door behind him.

"Mister Prime Minister, may I remind you of the importance of secrecy," he said, a hint of reprimand in his voice.

"Important to you and your people, maybe. I, for one, get absolutely no advantage to this secrecy, except that people don't think I've completely lost it yet!"

"Sir, I am here to protect you, not to convey messages."

"No, that's Fudge's job, isn't it? And where is he exactly? Waiting for a more convenient time, after I've been publicly lynched, perhaps?!"

"I don't know, sir."

"But I'm right, aren't I? That reported gas leak was really an attack?"

"I'm afraid I don't have the authority to comment on that."

The Prime Minister sighed and closed his eyes. As he took a deep breath, the urge to fight disappeared as quickly as it had come.

"Of course you don't." He opened his eyes again. "I'm sorry, Shacklebolt, this isn't your fault. You're just following orders."

Kingsley nodded and his shoulders sagged in relief. Sometimes, he really hated this assignment.

"Now, what was it you came in for?" the PM asked and both men turned to the task of running a country while trying to ignore the invisible war going on.

* * *

Auror Nymphadora Tonks wasn't really sure what she thought about this attack. It was all over much too soon. The Death Eaters didn't put up much of a fight at all, running shortly after she and her team of Aurors arrived. That wasn't quite their style. They usually were gone by the time Aurors got there or else were prepared for a long battle. Something was off.

"Looks like someone put up a fight," commented Alexa, one of her colleagues. Tonks looked in the same direction and her eyes widened when she noticed the slumped form of an unconscious Death Eater.

"Well, don't just stand there!" their team leader barked. "We've got some clean-up to do!"

Tonks sighed and looked up and down the street. To her right she saw a young man standing up from where he had probably been hiding behind a small, blue car. Another Auror was already approaching him, so she turned to her left. Not far from her two teenage girls stood, observing the Aurors. They looked confused, but not shocked by what they were seeing.

She walked over to them. Maybe they weren't actually Muggles. . .

"Hello," she said with a smile. She didn't want to scare them off, after all. "My name is Nymphadora Tonks."

"Hi," one of them replied, almost shyly. She was wearing a rainbow-stripped knitted hat. "I'm Vi and this is Gwen." Tonks raised an eyebrow at the girl's American accent. "So- um, that was magic you guys were using back there, right? With, like, wands and stuff?"

"And what the hell was up with those _Lord of the Rings _rejects earlier?" Gwen asked.

Tonks blinked at them. _Lord of the Rings _rejects? Yup, they were definitely Muggles. She gripped her wand.

"Miss Auror!" a man's voice called from behind her. Tonks turned around to see a middle-aged man in a tweed jacket hurrying her way. "Miss Auror, if I may, could I please speak to the girls?" Tonks nodded and stepped aside for him.

The man turned to the girls.

"I don't know who the two of you are," he began, "but I have never in all my years met anyone with as much courage as you've shown today. I know you won't remember anything that happened here, but for what it's worth, I wanted to thank you for saving my life."

"You're, uh, welcome," Gwen said with a confused look on her face.

"Wait, what do you mean we won't remember anything?" Vi asked.

"Yeah, why wouldn't we remember . . .?"

From behind the man, Tonks pointed her and at the two girls. It really was a shame they were Muggles.

"_Obliviate_."

* * *

Angela didn't bother looking up from the potatoes she was peeling when she heard the familiar creek of the kitchen door. The only person who ever used it was Lady Malfoy and only to give instructions to the house elves. She tended to ignore her only human servant.

"Can Trippy get young Master Draco something?" Angela heard a house elf ask. She stopped peeling and glanced up.

The figure in the room wasn't the thin, regal lady of the manor, but an unfamiliar blond youth. She realized this must be Lady Malfoy's son. She hadn't heard much about him other that he'd arrived at the manor a week ago and spent his first three days back bedridden after a meeting with the Dark Lord. Even now, he still seemed slightly pale. Although, that could just be his natural colouring.

"I'll take my lunch in here today," the boy said. He grabbed an apple from a bowl on the counter next to the door without bothering to look. "And prepare a plate for Prof- I mean, Mister Snape. He will be joining me shortly."

"Right away, young Master," the house elf said and scurried away.

The boy, Draco, sat down at the small, but ornament, wooden table in the corner of the kitchen and took a bite of his apple. Suddenly, he seemed to feel her eyes watching him and he looked up. He noticed her and frowned.

"So you're the Muggle the Dark Lord's so interested in," he spat.

"Yes, I am a Muggle. My name is Angela."

"I don't care what your name is. You're just a servant, like a piece of furniture. Chairs don't need names to do their jobs."

"I see."

Angela went back to her potatoes and ignored the boy. At least meeting the son was a slightly more pleasant experience than meeting the father had been.

Several minutes later, just as Angela finished peeling the last of the potatoes, the kitchen door creaked again. This time she did look up. It was the potion's brewer, Severus Snape. As usual, she had to suppress the urge to giggle. She simply couldn't get over just how much he looked like some cliché fantasy movie villain. Perhaps she would one day muster enough courage to ask him if he did it on purpose.

But right now she was merely glad he was here to, hopefully, temper the Malfoy child's rudeness. Although Snape was his own special breed of nasty and rude, at least he wasn't a snotty, arrogant brat.

"Angela," she heard the man's rich baritone say. She looked up just as her basket of potatoes was replaced with a basket of washed carrots. "Get me some tea. And none of that ridiculous exotic stuff Lucius seems determined to torture me with during my stay here."

"Yes sir," she said with a slight smile and went off to prepare tea.

Meanwhile, Snape sat down at the kitchen table opposite Draco. The youngest Malfoy stared at his former potion's professor with a bewildered look on his face.

"I can't believe you just addressed that, that _thing_," he said in disgust.

"Draco, clearly you still have much to learn. The fact of the matter is that despite being a Muggle, or perhaps because of it, that girl brews a finer cup of tea than your house elves."

Draco blinked. Then his eyes narrowed.

"What do you mean, because she's a Muggle?"

"Well, brewing tea can be like brewing a potion. Using shortcuts makes it less effective, therefore inferior. Being a Muggle means she cannot use the shortcuts house elves do, resulting in a superior cup of tea. It's the same reason why potions ingredient must be chopped by hand and why we are only taking half an hour for dinner so that we may get back to brewing."

"You mean me preparing the ingredients and you overseeing," Draco grumbled.

"Precisely."

The dark-haired man looked up as a cup of tea was set before him. "Thank you," he said and took a sip.

"You're welcome," Angela replied and turned to Draco, placing a cup in front of him as well. "Mister Malfoy, I took the liberty of preparing one for you as well."

"Uh, thank you. . ." the boy looked a bit confused. Angela noticed Snape smirk slightly behind his cup.

"You're welcome."

Angela went back to her counter and began chopping carrots. The two wizards then began discussing potions, which she found completely uninteresting. She tuned them out and her thoughts wandered back to the dream she had yesterday. A day later, she still remembered it vividly: the flames, the blood, the screams, all of it. For some reason, she couldn't help but feel it was significant. But she didn't know why.

Even though it would probably be useless, she wished she had one of her dream interpretation books with her.

At the corner of the kitchen, the house elves placed two plates of food in front of Draco Malfoy and Severus Snape. Both immediately dug in. Predictably, Draco was the first to finish and then sipped on a butterbeer as he watched the older man eat with a sort of morbid fascination. The man cut up his food with the same precision he used for his potions ingredients.

Draco looked at the kitchen clock and groaned. They only had five minutes left of Snape's allotted half hour for dinner.

"It's not fair," Draco said. "This is my home, so why am I stuck with the menial chores?"

"Because this may be your home, but, at the moment, it is also the Dark Lord's stronghold. And you've disappointed the Dark Lord. . . or don't you remember?"

Draco's expression darkened and a haunted expression appeared in his eyes.

"How could I forget?" he said in almost a whisper. He looked away from his former professor.

Severus Snape finished off the rest of his butterbeer in a single gulp. Then he carefully wiped his lips clean on the white cloth napkin from his lap. He wasn't paying attention to his former student and so didn't notice Draco watching Angela with a look of astonishment.

"You know, maybe Muggles are better at menial tasks than wizards are," the boy suddenly said thoughtfully. Snape looked at him and raised an eyebrow. "I mean, if all Muggles can chop stuff like that then they should be excellent at preparing potions ingredients."

Snape's raised eyebrow turned into a scowl. At the same time that he noticed the direction of Draco's gaze, he also registered the rapid tapping noise in the background. He turned around to watch Angela chopping carrots.

And gaped. Her hands were moving so fast he could hardly keep up with individual movements, the knife appeared as a shiny blur as light reflected off of it. In all his years as a Hogwarts student and later professor, he had seen many students try chopping ingredients this fast - in fact just about every year someone got sent to the infirmary to get a finger or two reattached - however, he had never seen anyone manage such speed, yet still create such perfectly identical pieces.

"Draco, I am no expert on Muggles," Snape began after a bit. "However, I am fairly certain most of them cannot chop anything like that."

The two wizards stared at Angela for a few minutes. She had a distant look in her eyes, as if she wasn't really paying attention to what she was doing.

"Angela," Snape called. She didn't hear him. He tried again, a bit louder. Still nothing.

"Oi, Muggle!" Draco yelled.

Angela's head shot up and her eyes darted from side to side before coming to rest on Snape and Draco.

"Yes?" she asked.

"Wherever did you learn to use a knife like that?" Snape asked. Angela looked down at the knife in her right hand with confusion.

"What do you mean, sir?" she asked.

"Just now, you were chopping those carrots incredibly fast, faster than I've ever seen anyone else do it."

"I. . . I don't know what you're talking about, sir. There is nothing strange with the way I chop carrots. At least I didn't think there was."

Angela took another carrot and chopped it up. This time, it was done at a slower and more normal pace. She stared at the pieces. Then she looked back up at Snape.

"No, there is nothing unusual," she said. The two wizards blinked.

* * *

Ron looked at the doors to the Hogwarts library with a feeling of absolute dread and despair. He felt like a petty thief who'd just been sentenced to eternal damnation for stealing a quill.

"Don't worry, Ron," Harry told him cheerily, clapping him on the back. "It won't actually swallow you whole."

"You sure 'bout that, mate?"

"Of course. It's only after your soul and sanity."

"Oh stop being silly, you two," Hermione snapped at the two of them as she passed by them in an annoyed huff. She reached for the handle and turned to look at them. "Don't you realize how important this is?"

"Considering the reason we're doing this just so happens to be related to the same person who's been trying to knock me off for the last six years, then yes, I think we realize the importance of your precious library," Harry snapped back at her.

The bushy-haired girl looked taken aback for a moment, before anger flashed momentarily in her eyes.

"Well then stop whining!"

Hermione threw the carved wooden doors open and vanished into the library. Ron groaned and followed her.

"Look Hermione, we know we've got to do this," he began, wondering for a moment how he of all people had become the mediator. "It's just that for the past three days we haven't seen anything other than the Gryffindor Tower - where we collapse at the end of the day - and this bloody, stupid library! We're supposed to be on vacation!"

"Don't swear, Ron." Hermione stopped half-way to their table in the back.

"All right, I understand, Ron, really I do," she admitted with a sigh as Harry came to stand beside Ron. "We haven't found a single lead in the three days we've searched so far. I'm starting to get a tad frustrated myself." She turned to face the boys. "But we can't give up. This is one of the libraries in the Wizarding world. There has to be something here. And we need to find it."

"We don't want to give up, Hermione," Harry said softly. "We just think that, well, maybe a short break might be useful."

"And some candy," Ron added quickly.

"Candy?" Hermione and Harry asked in unison, staring at the redhead in confusion.

"Sure, I mean, s'not like there's anyone here to stop us from going to Hogsmeade, is there? The adults are all out of the castle, unless you count Trelawney."

"Ron, that's brilliant!" Harry exclaimed. His face had lit up at the idea, his mind already full of images of a lazy afternoon spent strolling through the peaceful little Wizarding town. Suddenly, he really wanted a butterbeer.

"What if someone recognizes Harry?" Hermione asked. "We have no way of knowing who's a Death Eater and who isn't."

Ron's face fell and the light disappeared from Harry's eyes.

"Unless, of course, I do a glamour charm on him. . ." Hermione continued, although it seemed like she was talking to herself more than to the boys. ". .. I could change the colour of his hair, make it slightly longer. . . some dark sunglasses perhaps. . ."

Harry blinked at her.

"As long as you don't make me wear a hat and trench coat, I'm game," he said.

"A what?" Ron asked.

"A hat, Ron; you know, the thing people like to wear on their heads," Hermione answered with a smile. Ron shot her an annoyed glare.

"Not that, the other thing."

"A trench coat is a long overcoat," Harry began. "It's um, kind of beige usually and it's a classic spy thing in movies. . ." He cringed at the horrible explanation.

"Just never mind, Ron," Hermione said. "As much fun as that would be, the idea is to be inconspicuous. If I made his hair red, he could probably pass as a distant Weasley relative."

"I think I can live with that," Harry said. "I'm sure Mrs. Weasley would be flattered too."

"Mum would be ecstatic," Ron muttered, rolling his eyes.

"Well then, let's get a couple of hours of research in before we head to Hogsmeade," Hermione suggested.

"Then lunch at the Three Broomsticks?" Harry asked. Ron's mouth began to water. Harry noticed this and laughed. "I'll take that as a yes."

Hermione was already absorbed in a large, leather-bound tome when the boys joined her at their table, each picking up the book they'd left there the night before. Thoughts of Hogsmeade fuelled them

* * *

"These moving pictures need a pause button," Spike growled at the daily issue of _The New York Prophet _he held in front of him. "They're seriously starting to creep me out. I mean, they only repeat one action over and over again, like a bloody broken record."

"A record is used for sound, Spike," a Fred-like Illyria pointed out from behind her copy of The _National Wizarding Post_. "Besides, regular photographs only show one moment in time."

"Yeah, 'cause they're pictures and that's what pictures are supposed to do!"

"Found it!"

"Hm, found what, luv?" Spike looked from his newspaper as Illyria put hers down on the grimy, wooden pub table and began to read the article that had caught her attention in earnest.

"Wow," she said a few moments later. "They really do call him You-Know-Who."

"Isn't that just fascinating." Spike shook his head in amusement. "What a bunch of wusses."

"Indeed."

"I wonder if we could get our hands on some European papers. . . they'd probably 'ave more on this Dark Lord fellow than these stupid American ones."

"You could try one of the European branches of Wolfram and Hart, they'll probably know what's going on."

"Yeah, but just 'cause the firm's in an uproar on this side o' the pond and hasn't gotten around to terminating our company credit cards, doesn't mean they don't know about us in Europe."

"Hm."

Several minutes passed when suddenly, Spike slapped his forehead. Illyria looked up and raised an eyebrow.

"Bloody 'ell," he groaned. "I can't believe I didn't think of this sooner." He looked up at Illyria. "Andrew. He may be in Italy, but if something this big is going down, he'll definitely have heard of it."

Approval flashed in Illyria's eyes as Spike dug for his cell phone.

* * *

Harry stood outside, eyes closed and face turned upwards, towards the sun. A small, contented smile played on his lips, threatening to morph into an all-out grin. He was glad the weather was so nice; it made the afternoon even more perfect.

Lunch at the Three Broomsticks had been wonderful. The food was good and the butterbeer had been the best he'd ever tasted. He knew very well that, logically, it tasted the same as it always did, but he didn't really care much about logic at the moment.

His right hand was holding a sizable and rather heavy bag full of his favourite Honeyduke's treats along with a Quidditch magazine he picked up at the bookstore before Hermione shooed him out, telling him to go find Ron. Her behaviour still confused him, since usually she couldn't get either of the two boys to voluntarily spend any amount of time inside a bookstore. But, since he had what he'd wanted and Ron was probably just down the road inside the Quidditch supply store, where he planned to go anyway, Harry just couldn't be bothered trying to figure out the girl's sudden madness.

Harry opened his eyes again. Then he began to leisurely make his way towards the Quidditch supply store. An old lady smiled at him as he stopped to let her pass by him and into the apothecary. He smiled back.

It was odd how he'd never really thought about Hogsmeade as having actual, normal citizens living in it. He only ever got to see it when it was buzzing with students and their chaperones. Without them, the small town seemed so normal, so empty.

He walked down the main street, relishing the anonymity Hermione's glamour gave him. There weren't any stares, no covert glances at his forehead or looks full of awe and hero worship. He was just another redhead walking down the street. He loved it. He was more relaxed than he'd felt in a long time and so took his time getting to where he was sure Ron was hiding, stopping to peruse the shop window displays.

He was looking into the window of a tiny bakery he didn't remember ever seeing before, when the wind blew his hair into his eyes. It brought with it a rather odd sensation, like the sweet smell of a far-off fire on a warm midsummer's night. He didn't think anything of it, however, as he brushed the hair out of his eyes and resumed eyeing the delicious-looking pastries in the display.

And froze.

Next to the now-familiar image of himself as a Weasley, was the reflection of a strange woman. Not strange because he didn't know her, but because she looked rather, well, peculiar. Her hair was long and hung about her face in tangled waves of white gold. And while she wasn't wearing robes, her clothes couldn't really be called Muggle either. It was hard to tell from the glass, but she had a white top on, with a brown cloak and some sort of green shawl over top. She was also wearing a large, stone pendant around her neck.

But what really captured Harry's attention, were her eyes. He couldn't quite tell what colour they were, but they looked slightly unfocused, yet still managed to stare at him intently through the glass. The woman was completely still as she observed him through their reflections and Harry couldn't help but feel naked under the intense gaze, his very soul exposed to her musings.

Suddenly she grinned and her eyes sparkled with something he couldn't quite identify. She giggled and he was struck at how innocent it made her seem. Then, just as suddenly, the giggling stopped and she was once again serious.

"By sacrifice protected, scarred champion child," she said in a sing-song whisper. At her words, Harry stiffened, his eyes wide. "Chosen by the Dark Lord and upheld by the wizards, not long have ye to wait. Destiny has laid your path."

Harry swung around, his wand out and ready. But the woman was gone. Frantically, he looked around for any sign of her. He took a few steps to his right, when he heard faint laughter from behind him. He looked over his shoulder in time to see a twirl of white and brown disappear down a side street.

He ran after it.

* * *

"Yeah, umm, alright Andrew. . . that's lovely I'm sure, but. . . listen I've got to. . . yes we'll definitely stop by if we're in Rome. . . right to have onion blossoms. . . now I've really got to. . . oh bugger this." Spike hung up and turned the cell phone off.

He ran a hand through his hair and sighed. The way the young watcher-in-training worshiped him was rather flattering, but only when he didn't actually have to deal with said young man. A bit further away, Illyria chuckled. Spike answered the blue-haired god with a glare and pocketed the cell phone.

They were in an alleyway about four blocks away from where they'd exited the Wizarding world via Reno's. To be honest, Spike didn't have a clue which part New York they were in. However, they couldn't get any reception inside the magical community, so they had to leave it.

"So, did the boy know anything?"

Spike raised an eyebrow at the deep voice and sneaked a glance at the demon god. She was casually leaning against the wall, watching the people on the street. Spike lit a cigarette and took a long, satisfying drag.

"Nope," he answered. "Said he'd never heard of a separate Wizarding world or of any Dark Lord from England." He took a puff of the cigarette. "But apparently there is something strange going on. He said they think something might be trying to open up a new hellmouth. . ."

"If an opening to Hell was being created, then the entire world would know," Illyria interrupted. "The ground would shake, the sky would burn and the oceans boil. That kind of raw power does not exist in this world of humans."

"Right. Well Andrew also said the Bit's extended her visit to England, something about a prophesy no one can figure out. Wonder if that has anything to do with the Wicked Wizard of the West. . ."

"Perhaps. Did he tell you the prophesy?"

"Nah, he didn't know it."

"Hm."

Silence stretched between them as Spike finished his cigarette. With a practiced flick of his fingers, the vampire threw the butt to the ground and then stepped on it. He put his hands in his pockets and walked up to Illyria.

"So, I guess we're going to jolly ol' England, huh?"

Illyria nodded.

* * *

Her laughter was beautiful. It rang through the air like the sweetest melody, rapidly dispelling any lingering thoughts of gloom. It had been such a long time since Harry had heard anyone laugh so happily. Not even at Bill's wedding. He found himself smiling at the woman, wondering how she had ever managed to frighten him.

He couldn't believe how fast she was. By the time he had caught up to her, she was at the edge of the Forbidden Forest. Harry fully realized she had led him there on purpose, although why he didn't know. For some reason, he wasn't concerned about not knowing who she was, despite the little "Hermione" voice in his head berating him and warning him to be cautious, because for all he knew, she could be a Death Eater, .

It could've been because she was twirling.

She had stopped at the foot of the infamously dangerous forest, stretched out her arms, threw her head back and spun around in circles, all the while laughing happily. Harry stood watching her, mesmerized by how carefree she looked in the midst of a war. The effects of Voldemort's growing power and his Death Eater's activities touched everyone he saw around him.

Except for her. She looked so innocent. Like a child.

But she was certainly no child.

Only now, that he had a better view of her, did Harry realize just how truly odd she looked.

She was tanned, but not dark. Her hair was the fairest shade of yellow he'd ever seen and even though it was a frizzy, jumbled mess, it still managed to catch every single ray of light. It was pulled away from her face by a white-ish piece of cloth with several strings of wooden beads, coloured pebbles and seashells dangling from the left side of it, falling down her cheek. Around her neck hung a solid silver necklace with a silver crescent moon hanging from it, held in place by what looked like a short golden laurel branch on either side, winding up the necklace.

Her cloak was gone, so all she was wearing was a dress, which had probably once been white, but was now yellowed, like old paper. It was very simple and long, although it looked as though the sleeves had been cut off at one point in time with something not meant for cutting fabric. The bottom of the dress was frayed and stained by grass and dirt. She was barefoot. A wide anklet of bright coloured red and blue stones set in gold adorned her left ankle. More stones dangled from it, jingling slightly as she spun around.

Then suddenly she stopped.

Harry looked back to her face. Her eyes were closed as she still faced the sky, only now her hands were hanging down by her sides and she was completely still, except for the few strands of hair the breeze picked up. There was a contented smile on her face, but she was no longer laughing.

Harry took a few cautious steps towards her.

"Who are you?" he asked, wincing at how loud his voice seemed in the now quiet. He took a deep breath and steeled his voice, hoping to sound more authoritative. "How do you know who I am?"

For a moment there was silence, interrupted only by a few screeches from the forest and the rustling of the trees. Just as Harry was getting impatient, she answered in a soft whisper.

"Medea I am - and Mari too - for each lifetime do I hold a name," her voice was airy and sweet, but lacked something in order to be called feminine. There was a deepness in it, something dark amidst the lightness of her demeanour. "The moon, the stars, they are my kin; they whisper to me in the night. And when in earn'st I saw the light, they took my eyes away."

She opened her eyes and looked directly at Harry. Her eyes were the lightest shade of blue he'd ever seen, the colour of a summer's day sky when there was just a hint of cloud. They were unfocused, even as they stared directly at him. He gasped, when he realized that it meant.

"You- you're blind!" He stammered in astonishment. He remembered chasing her through the intricate alleys of Hogsmeade: she certainly didn't move like a blind woman.

Said blind woman threw her head back and laughed.

"Blind are mine eyes, yes, and yet I see. Here I stand, but forgotten I remain; move in time, yet remain the same."

Harry just stared at her, the realization slowly hitting him that the spark her eyes he'd seen in the reflection at the shop window, was insanity. He comforted himself with the thought that at least she didn't take after Bellatrix Lestrange and hadn't taken out a wand to torture him with. Yet.

In fact, at the moment, she looked oddly thoughtful. A moment later, she spoke again.

"Many things have I been called, good and evil plenty. But I suppose you need a name. . . so you may call me Phythia. After all, 'tis today my part to play."

"Phythia?" Harry was confused. The name sounded Greek, but he had no idea what it meant. He'd ask Hermione later. Now he had more important matters to deal with. "What do you want from me?"

She blinked at him.

"Me? I want nothing, little one, 'tis Lady Fate and her wheel that called me here today." There was a gust of wind and suddenly she was gone. Harry started, alarmed at her disappearance. Then her voice came from beside him.

"Still this morn was I in London, where the chartered Thames does flow, a mark in every face I met, marks of weakness, marks of woe. Then I felt a little voice, telling me 'to Scottland go'. And so I flew upon the wind, fluttering on the breeze, 'till I found this quiet town - magical and sweet. Yet there is a darkness in this land, poisoning the wine. And this time, there no help will come, from the sturdy walls of Camelot."

Harry took a step away from her, but suddenly she was standing nose to nose with him, a single finger pointing at him.

"'Tis your path, Boy-Who-Lived, that drew me here today. You have been called and you must answer, it is your only choice."

Harry groaned.

"Yeah, I know, I'm the only one who can defeat Voldemort. I'm the Chosen One, right?"

"No!" Harry blinked, now truly confused. "Not the Chosen One. Never the Chosen One. There your destiny can never lay; you do not fit the bill."

Harry blinked again. He felt a headache coming on. He took two steps back, but this time Phythia didn't follow him. Instead, she merely cocked her head and watched him with an unusually sombre expression.

"Speak into the Omphalos, perhaps someone will listen. Deep within the Well they lay, my kinsmen and my tribe. Born when Bennu first cried out, they dream forever in the dark." She laughed again, threw her arms up and twirled around again. Harry rolled his eyes.

"Look, if you've got nothing to tell me, then I'm going."

"They call me insane," she said. "But I know the truth, for I see what they cannot. I see what lies ahead, where the Moon shall shine tomorrow."

Harry groaned again, realizing what she must think she was.

"Right. . . I think those people who call you insane are right. You're battier than Trelawney. Must be a 'Seer' thing."

Phythia made a noise of horror, though it came out as more of a shriek. Her eyes were wide as she stared at Harry with narrowed eyes.

"For shame, my stars! What blasphemy! I am no seer; I do not gaze upon the stars, nor into crystal balls. The Powers That Be are not my guides, but where I look, there I see, the future laid before me."

Her face lit up and she continued.

"I am a prophet, not a seer. Seers watch the stars, but stars are fickle things. Listen not to them; for they lie, they hide the truth from those who look, speaking only in half-truths."

"Alright, so you're a prophet then. That's. . . um, great." Harry looked at her sceptically, not really thinking there was much of a difference. "Anyway, my friends are probably beginning to worry about me, so I'd better get back to them."

He turned to go. Only to stop short as he saw Phythia standing before him. He sighed.

"Look, I don't want to hurt you, but I really have to-" She didn't let him finish.

"The Snake is not the King of Beasts,

but the Lion cannot win.

Venom spreads throughout the land,

and, before it, the Lion crumbles.

The Snake's power will soar,

and none born will have the power to oppose it.

Until the Dragon rises."

He stared at her, a feeling a knot of dread forming in the pit of his stomach.

"W-what does that mean?"

She smiled at him, just a regular smile.

"Born underneath Leo's grace, 'tis your riddle to figure out. I have told the tale."

With a laugh and a twirl and a gust of wind, she was gone.

Harry stood at the edge of the Forbidden Forest, staring into space. Eventually he picked up the pieces of his muddled brain and headed back into Hogsmeade to find his friends.

* * *

Please review!

Author's Notes:

**Caritas:** As one of my betas pointed out, there's no evidence on the show that Spike's ever been to Caritas. I'm kinda guessing here that at some point in time he has. We know he's been to LA (season 1 of Angel), so I figure it's not too outrageous an assumption to make.

**Gherkin: **Really odd building in the financial district of downtown London. If you google it, you'll know exactly what the two slayers are talking about.

**Phythia:**

**". .where the chartered Thames does flow,/A mark in every face I meet,/ Marks of weakness, marks of woe." **- These lines are from William Blake's poem _London_.

Ok, so I could actually write an entire essay about Phythia and I actually might if people ask me to. I will say this much: nothing about her is accidental. She is the most complex and, frankly, the most fun character I have ever created. I won't dissect everything she said here, because it would take too much space, but feel free to ask me in your reviews. A lot of it will get explained by other characters (think: Hermione) later on.


	6. Chapter 6

So, I figured I'd help celebrate the release of the last HP book, by finally updating. Actually, this chapter's been done for a while, but my betas were in the middle of exams and such, so it took a while for me to get it back. Also, it's really long. On the advice of one of my betas I'll make the next one shorter, so I should be able to update waaay faster.

Also, I haven't read the new book and don't plan on reading it anytime soon (want to get as much of this story written as I can before I give in to temptation, lol). So, please **don't mention any spoilers** in your reviews. Thanks D

And thank you to everyone who's reviewed my previous chapters. And to **LadySunflower** for betaing this one.

Disclaimer: All I own is the plot, the prophecy and a few OCs. That is all.

Now enjoy!

* * *

**The Prophecy of the Four**

**Chapter 6 -** Setting the Stage

In a quaint little French café, not far from Downing Street, the Prime Minister of Britain sat down to breakfast with his Finance Minister. It was a warm morning, even though the sun was hiding behind a massive curtain of gray clouds, so the two men had opted to eat outside under large blue umbrellas.

They ordered and talked about idle, inconsequential things such as families, common friends and last night's rugby game. Then their food arrived. The Prime Minister leaned back in his chair and spent a few moments looking up at the sky. It didn't look completely miserable yet, as if it was waiting for the opportune moment to turn dreadfully depressing.

All in all, he decided, it matched his mood perfectly.

The Prime Minister sighed and reached for a warm croissant. As he reached for the blueberry jam, he caught a glimpse of his companion's expression. The Finance Minister sipped his cup of tea and looked back at him with a serious expression. There was a resolute glint in his eyes. Having known the man for many years, the Prime Minister recognized the look - it meant they were about to have a conversation neither one of them wanted to be having, but would have anyway.

It seemed the opportune moment had arrived. And the Prime Minister was beginning to feel suitably depressed.

The Finance Minister placed his tea calmly onto the table. He cleared his throat.

"Anthony," he began, "how are you holding up really? The past few months seem to have taken quite the toll on you."

"I know I look dreadful, but it's really not as bad as it looks," the Prime Minister replied, hoping against all odds that the man in front of him believed the blatant lie.

"If you say so. . ."

The Prime Minister let out the breath he'd been holding. The older man clearly wasn't convinced, but at least he was letting the issue lie for the moment. He didn't really want anyone to know just how close he was to a nervous breakdown.

"However, you can't deny how bad things are right now," the Finance Minister continued. The Prime Minister started. There was more to this conversation? "The public and the media are blaming this latest string of unfortunate events on us-"

"But they're being unreasonable! I mean, honestly, how could we possibly control the weather or-"

"I know that!" The minister sighed and ran a hand through his short, brown hair. "We all know that. Even the opposition knows that. But the public wants someone to blame and you're at the head of the government."

The Prime Minister looked down at his breakfast. The soft boiled egg he knew was going to be just the right consistency, the crisp buttery croissant and the colourful fruit salad, were all starting to look incredibly unappetizing. He was glad he hadn't actually eaten any of it yet.

"What are you trying to say, Norman?" he whispered.

"I'm saying that we're being optimistic for the moment, hoping we can still make something of this mess." The Finance Minister paused and smiled sympathetically at the younger man. "Everyone likes you. We respect you greatly and most of us still believe you have the makings of a good Prime Minister. . ."

"But you have no choice."

"No we don't. Or at least we won't if something doesn't happen soon."

The Prime Minister idly wondered if this was the same feeling a hostage got when the robber, or terrorist, put a gun to their face. All the years, all the hard work and long nights he'd put into realizing his dreams and desires to stand at the head of his beloved country, none of it meant anything anymore. All because of a world he didn't even know existed until a year ago, a world he had no part in.

He clenched his fist and gritted his teeth. His anger must've looked quite intense, because his breakfast companion cleared his throat again.

"Anthony, why don't you just tell me what you know?"

Suddenly, the anger was gone. The Prime Minister looked up at his Finance Minister with wide eyes.

"Wh-what makes you think I know anything? I mean, I don't know anything more than any of you."

"No, you know something you're not telling the rest of us. Minister Hathaway and I are quite convinced of that."

The Prime Minister winced. The Minister of Home Office, Stephen Hathaway, had been in politics for as long as he could remember. He should've been more careful around him; everyone knew that old man could smell a deception from a distance.

"I'm sorry, but the two of you are wrong," he tried to be as nonchalant as he could as he reached for his wallet and placed a few bills onto the table. "I'm just as much in the dark as to what's going on as you are. I thank you for your friendly warning and I don't hold any grudges against anyone in the government. The situation is a tragedy, but hardly your fault."

He stood up from the table.

"Well, I suppose I shall see you in the morning meeting."

"Yes, indeed you shall."

The Prime Minister didn't notice the contemplative gaze that followed him as he walked off.

* * *

Xander took a sip of his coffee. He made a face and put the mug down, not looking up from his newspaper. Then he reached out with the same hand his cup had been in and grabbed the sugar shaker from the centre of the round kitchen table. After pouring a generous amount of sugar into the mug and stirring it with the handle of a butter knife, he took another sip. This time he smiled contentedly.

"Decided your sugar needed some caffeine?" Dawn asked from where she sat across from him, eating a scone with her black coffee.

"Yup," Xander answered, still not looking up from his paper.

"So, found anything supernatural in the paper yet?"

"Well. . ."

"Morning!" said Faith as she waltzed into the kitchen and headed to the fridge, followed by several of the younger slayers, who all chorused their own greetings.

"Hey guys!" Dawn said with a bright smile. Xander turned around to see who had come in.

"Vi!" he called to the redheaded slayer. The girl turned her head in his direction and quirked an eyebrow. "Uh, you and Gwen were down in the financial district yesterday, right?"

"Yeah," she replied.

"The paper says something about an explosion happening there; did either of you see anything?"

Vi thought for a moment.

"Well. . . I kinda remember some sort of explosion. It wasn't big or anything though, just broke a couple windows in one of the shops. It was normal, though, nothing supernatural or magicky about it."

"Oh, so you were there?"

"Yeah, we were walking by when it went off."

"And you failed to mention this yesterday. . .why?" Dawn asked. Vi frowned.

"I- it didn't seem important. I mean, it wasn't what we were looking for. . ."

Gwen walked in at that moment, wearing a pink floral bandana and a slightly dazed expression on her face. Vi looked to her.

"Right, Gwen?"

"Uh, sure," Gwen blinked and looked at Vi. "What am I agreeing to, exactly?"

"That explosion yesterday, there was nothing special about it, right?"

"Huh? Oh right, um. . .no, I don't think so. There was lots of smoke, glass and some screaming. And something green. I remember something green. . ."

"Green?" Xander asked.

"Yeah, green. . ."

Gwen suddenly noticed the looks everyone was giving her and smiled sheepishly.

"Oh, uh, sorry, I had this really odd dream last night."

"Was it a Slayer Dream?" asked Giles from the doorway. Gwen thought for a bit.

"I don't think so. I mean, I've never had one before, so I'm not really sure what they feel like, but it didn't seem like I was seeing the future or anything otherworldly."

"Is the dream clear?" Faith asked. "Like, can you remember everything that happened in it?"

"No, not really. . . just flashes of some guys in robes."

"Aaah, Bringers," Xander commented. Gwen frowned.

"No, darker and taller. . ."

"Bringers plus Andrew's Lord-of-the-Rings-a-thon from last month," Dawn added.

"I. . . I guess so."

"Pity," said Giles. "A Slayer Dream would come in very handy right about now. No matter how obscure the Powers That Be like to be, at the moment I'll take anything."

"Except that, with our luck, chances are anything the Powers send us will be about that _other_ nasty demon trying to take over the city," said Xander.

"Or eat everyone in it," Dawn added.

"I'll take that other nasty demon, yo," Faith said between bites of cereal. "It'd give me something decent to kill, at least. The vamps in this town are pathetic compared to Sunnydale. I mean, one of the ones I found yesterday actually managed to dust itself before I could get near it!"

"Wow, that. . . that's. . ." Dawn began.

"Really bad?" Xander suggested.

"Frustrating, actually," said Faith. She waved her spoon around as she ranted. "I mean, I was all lookin' forward to a good fight and then the stupid undead thing trips! I thought vampires were supposed to be all super-reflexes and killer moves and all, yo!"

"Most of them are," said Giles. "Um, Xander, did you find anything in today's paper?"

"Nope, I got nothing."

"Damn." Faith sighed in disappointment. "I was kinda hoping for another road trip."

"Can Gwen and me go patrol during the day again?" Vi asked shyly.

"Well, I don't really think. . . " Giles began.

"It's not like we need them during night patrol, G-man," Faith pointed out. Giles shrugged.

"Oh all right, I suppose we haven't really got anything to lose. Just make sure you try a different part of London this time."

"Sure thing!" "Ok, we will!" the two slayers echoed with wide smiles and bright eyes. They immediately began discussing where they should head to.

Giles took out his handkerchief and began to clean his glasses.

"Yo, G-man," Xander called.

"Don't call me that," Giles answered as he put his glasses back on to glare at the young man.

"Whatever. I was thinkin' I could head over to one of those warehouses the old Watcher's Council left behind and check out what's in them."

"As far as I know, most of what should be in there is junk the Council thought too valuable to simply throw away."

"Besides, isn't that kinda veering away from what we should be doing?" Dawn asked.

"Hey, so far everything we have is stuff we've stumbled onto by accident. Maybe I'll, like, bump into a huge lion statue while I'm there or something."

"Or maybe you'll open a box and something big, mean and hungry will jump out at you and ask you on a date," said Faith. "I'm coming with."

Giles sighed. Apparently, no one was in the mood to actually do anything productive today. Not that he really blamed them. He was also at his wit's end, having no clue what to do next or where to look for possible sources of information.

"Very well," he said. "I highly doubt you'll find anything useful, but if you're going to go to the warehouse at least take a laptop and camera with you and catalogue everything you find."

"We'll need more people for that," said Faith. "I'll take a few of the newbies with us, then."

Giles simply nodded and waved them off. Then he went to make a fresh pot of tea.

* * *

Harry stared at the passage in front of him. He shook his head and read it again. His eyes widened in excitement, the kind a person gets when the thing he's been searching for suddenly appears before his eyes.

"Oi, Ron, Hermione!" he said, a grin starting to appear on his face. He looked up at his friends (one of which looked half-asleep) with shining eyes. "I think I've found something!"

"Really?" Hermione asked.

"'Bout bloody time," Ron mumbled as he rubbed his eyes. Looking slightly more awake and attentive, he turned to Harry. "What is it?"

"Well, it says in here that there's a weapon of some kind hidden inside the Hogwarts Lake and it's supposed to be really powerful. Some people think that's how the squid got there, that it's guarding the weapon or something."

"Does that mean we have to fight the squid to get the weapon?" said Ron with quite a bit of dread in his voice.

"No," said Hermione.

"Then how are we supposed to get-"

"We're not. There is no weapon."

"How do you know that?" Harry demanded. Hermione sighed.

"Because I've read about this legend before. In fact, it's even written in _Hogwarts: A History_, which you would know if either of you had bothered to read it."

"So you knew about this?" Harry looked outraged. "And you didn't say anything?"

"Yes, I knew about it. I also knew it was a hoax, which is why I never mentioned it." She paused. Both boys were looking at her sceptically. Hermione rolled her eyes. "There have been several attempts to find this weapon since Hogwarts was founded. According to rumours, even Godric Gryffindor and Salazar Slytherin teamed up to try and find it shortly after they founded the school. Not even they had any luck."

"Wait, so then the weapon is older than the school?" Ron interrupted.

"_If_ it existed, then yes, I suppose it would be older than the school."

"Oh. So then it couldn't be a Horocrux even if it did exist," said Harry. "Damn, and here I thought I'd found us a clue." Suddenly, something occurred to him. "Hermione, did you find anything about that woman I told you guys about the other day?"

"The crazy blind one?" said Ron as Hermione frowned.

"Yeah."

"Harry, I don't think listening to random crazy people on the street is really the best way to defeat You-Know- I mean, V-Vol-de-mort."

"I know, but. .. I-I don't quite know how to explain it, but somehow I feel like my instincts are telling me not to just dismiss her. And then there's what she said at the end. I mean, I only heard it once and it's not exactly catchy - so why do I still remember it word-for-word?"

"Harry. . . ?" Ron stared at his best friend. He was taken aback at the urgency in Harry's voice.

"You don't actually think she actually is a Seer?" asked Hermione. "That's just rubbish. She sounds even battier than Trelwany."

"Trelwany did have two actual visions, you know," Harry pointed out. That earned him an annoyed look from Hermione.

"Oh alright, fine, I did do some research on her. The name she gave you, Phythia, is Greek. In fact, it was the name of the priestess of the Delphic Oracle, which in ancient times was considered the wisest and most powerful of all prophets. It's an oddly appropriate choice for a name, really, since the blind prophet is a classical figure in Greek mythology."

"And the, um, prophesy?"

"Harry, I thought you said you remembered the prophesy word for word?"

"Well, I do, but that doesn't mean I understand the bloody thing!"

"Language." Harry rolled his eyes as Ron chuckled. After glaring at him for a few moments, Hermione cleared her throat and continued.

"The 'prophesy' makes it sound like you're going to lose. According to Phythia, "the Lion cannot win". Now, I think we can assume that V-Volde-mort's the Snake, which would make you the Lion."

"What about the Dragon?"

"I have no idea. The only connection to a dragon at Hogwarts is in its motto, so unless there's an actual dragon hidden somewhere in the castle for us to tickle. . ."

Harry sighed.

"Don't worry, mate, we'll find something soon. . . probably," said Ron. Harry ignored him.

"Why can't he hide things like normal people would? Like in a vault or a safe, or even inside their mattresses at home!"

"Harry," Hermione began in a logical tone, "Tom Riddle was hardly 'normal' by anyone's standards. Besides, he didn't really have a home, he grew up in an orphanage."

No sooner were the words out of her mouth, Hermione froze. She blinked twice and then gasped.

The boys stared at her. Then suddenly Harry groaned.

"You've got to be joking!" he said.

"Huh? What am I missing?" Ron asked, looking from one to the other in confusion.

"What we've all been missing up to now," Hermione answered. "The completely and painfully obvious solution."

"The orphanage," said Harry. "The place he grew up in."

"Oh."

"We are such idiots," said Hermione, burying her head in her hands.

* * *

The front door to the Watcher's Council Headquarters slammed open with a loud bang that resonated throughout the large building.

"Honey, we're home!" Xander's voice sounded five seconds later.

Upstairs, Dawn started and nearly spilled her strawberry smoothie all over the fluffy, blue-tinted bubbles in her bath. Luckily, she managed to pull herself upright just in time to avert disaster. Then she scowled at the door and hoped Xander could feel her displeasure radiating all the way downstairs.

Then she sighed and realized she should likely abandon her now luke-warm bath and find out if the warehouse raiders had found anything interesting.

Meanwhile, downstairs in the living room, Giles pushed the door shut with his foot in order to drown out the commotion in the hallway.

"Sorry, about that, it would appear Xander and the other have just arrived," he said into the phone. Then he paused for a moment, listening. "Yes, yes, that's fine. . .no problem at all. I'm sure the others will be delighted to meet him. Xander caused quite a stir when he told them he even existed."

Another pause. Giles chuckled.

"Of course. Well, I'd better go see if they found anything. It was, um, nice talking to you again . . . I will. Good-bye and enjoy the rest of your vacation."

With that Giles slowly put the phone down. He stood there staring at it thoughtfully for a moment. Suddenly, he heard a loud clang in the hallway.

"Hey, careful with that!" came Xander's muffled exclamation.

"Yeah, it looks really old, yo," said Faith, but with much less enthusiasm. "Plus, I kinda think I feel some kind of mojo or something from it."

Giles sighed.

"Something old that may or may not have magical properties," he mumbled to himself as he made his way to the door. "I do hope it doesn't try to eat us. My favourite sword's in the kitchen."

Out in the hallway, Giles found Xander and Faith holding something large and flat as they examined it for possible damage. He couldn't tell what it was right away, since there was a brown rag hiding it from his view. They must've used it to wrap the object in for the journey to the Watcher's Council.

He cleared his throat.

"So, I see you found something," Giles said expectantly. Xander looked up and grinned.

"Yeah, we sure did," he said.

"Has nothing to do with anything," Faith added. "But we thought it looked kinda cool, yo. Plus this place needs some wicked-ass décor."

"Yeah, can't let the Buffster make all the important decisions."

"I see," Giles began. Then he paused for a moment. "No, wait, I take that back. What are you two blathering on about?"

"This!"

Faith snatched the object from Xander and turned it around, holding it up so that their Head Watcher could get a good look at it. Giles blinked.

"Somehow. . . I was expecting something a bit more sinister. . ."

It was a shield. It was rather large and with a heavy, boarder of a simple weave design, which made Giles realize it was probably made for decorative purposes rather than actual battle. The background of the shield itself was blue, but its main feature was a large eagle in flight. Taking a closer look, Giles was actually quite impressed with the artistic detail of the bird.

Tentatively, he ran two fingers along the eagle's wings. No sooner had he touched it, but he found his fingers being zapped away, as if he'd touched some sort of powerful deflecting barrier.

"There, see, G-man felt it too!" Faith said, smugly.

"Yeah, well, I still don't feel anything," Xander protested.

"That's 'cause you're the zeppo, pirate."

"But most of the other slayers didn't feel anything either."

"Well, I've been at this longer, spent more time on the Hellmouth, yada, yada. . .take your pick."

Giles ignored them and touched the shield again. This time he wasn't repulsed, but he still felt a faint shimmer of magic coating the surface like a fine layer of dust.

"Faith?" he finally spoke. "What exactly do you feel when you touch this?"

Faith thought for a moment.

"Well, it kinda feels like the whole thing is buzzing or something," she answered slowly. "Only without making any noise. Like it's not doing anything, but it's alive and breathing or whatever."

"Hmm, yes, I'd say that's about what I feel."

"So, is it a good buzzing, an annoying buzzing or an end-of-the-world buzzing?" asked Xander.

"Huh, buzzing? You found something that buzzes in the warehouse?" Everyone turned to see Dawn walking down the stairs. "It better not be some sort of supernatural mosquitoes, 'cause the regular ones are bad enough."

"Yeah, but think how much easier a four-foot long mosquito would be to kill," said Xander.

"Point taken and approved," said Dawn. Then she noticed the shield Faith was holding. "Oooh, that's kinda pretty."

"We're going to hang it up in the hallway," said Faith.

"Cool."

"I suppose that should be fine," said Giles. "Although, I will research it tomorrow just to make sure it's not another mask."

"Yeah, zombies make horrible party guests," Xander agreed.

"Definitely seen more than enough of them to last me forever," added Dawn.

"Speaking of dead things," Giles interrupted, before Faith could ask what the two of them were talking about. "Angel just called. Seems his son, Connor, has decided to backpack across Europe this summer and I agreed to let him stay here a few days while he looks around London."

"So, Dead Boy junior's coming here?" Xander asked. "Cool."

"That's totally exciting!" Dawn almost squealed. "I wonder if he's got the whole brood thing like his father?"

"Nah, Connor's cool," said Faith. "Plus he's a great sparing partner."

"I suppose growing up in a hell dimension will do that," said Dawn.

"So, girls, where are we going to hang this up, anyway?" Xander asked.

Then he grinned as Dawn and the slayers began to argue over which side of the hallway it would look better on. His grin widened when he noticed Giles cleaning his glasses.

* * *

_Angela couldn't see anything around her. A curtain of dark fog hung in front of her eyes, keeping her from seeing the rest of the world. She knew there was a world beyond the fog; she could hear it, smell it, feel it. And it felt familiar._

_She heard clangs of metal and people running, screams of pain and terror. She smelt smoke mixed with blood and felt the heat of the fire. Under her feet the ground was squishy, although she wasn't entirely certain she wanted to know why. _

_Angela coughed as putrid smoke entered lungs._

_A hideous, inhuman bellow echoed from beyond the fog and she froze. There were more screams and something in the distance snapped. Angela strained her eyes through the fog, but it refused to lessen, to allow her to join the world beyond. Perhaps protecting her, perhaps keeping her prisoner, but suffocating her all the same._

_She couldn't breathe. The smell of blood, of burning flesh: it overwhelmed her._

_Angela ran. She didn't know which direction she'd picked, but anything seemed preferable to the fog. Even the horror of a burning village being destroyed by monsters._

_Suddenly, up ahead, she noticed the blackness lifting and she saw hues of gray and red. She sped up...and ran into the middle of Hell. No, not Hell, but a series of primitive huts surrounded by flames and decorated with the limbs, entrails and bodies of their former inhabitants. This was a different village than last time, she was sure of it._

_Angela made her way between the pyres, trying not to look too closely at the bloody, broken corpses littering the ground. However, when she nearly tripped, she was forced to look at one._

_She froze, eyes wide._

_Dull, yellow eyes stared up at her. This one had four thick, curled horns, but the skin colour, the amulet around the creature's neck: it was the same monster from the other village. She looked around her, scanning the dead bodies. Sure enough, laying amongst the human dead were several larger, darker bodies._

_'So this isn't just a massacre,' she thought. 'They've found a way to fight back.'_

_With that thought in mind, she hurried along, hoping if she got out of this burning maze she would find out what was going on._

_Finally she entered a clearing at what had to be the centre of the village. A scream pierced the night. Angela looked to her right in time to see one of the monsters fall onto a pile of dark blue bodies with a thud, blood gushing out of its neck. The killer circled its prey, a heavy spear in one hand and an axe in the other, ready to attack should the creature move again. It didn't._

_Then the monster's killer turned to Angela and as a nearby fire illuminated its face, she gasped. It was a human girl. _

_The girl's face was decorated in dried mud and war paint, her hair, wild and un-kept, surrounded her head like a mane. She wore the clothes of a tribal warrior made of grass and animal skins. There were anklets on her bare feet. She straightened herself a bit, but remained in a battle stance. Her eyes glared at Angela and she pointed at her with the spear._

_"So you come," she said in a gruff voice._

_Angela's hands automatically reached up and behind her back to grip something cool and reassuring. The woman didn't scare her_

_Then, the strange warrior screamed. Pain and anger mixed with raw strength echoed through the air in the wordless cry. In her surprise, Angela released whatever it was she was holding. The calmness she felt before was gone, replaced with anxiety._

_As she watched, a large bloody gash appeared on the woman's torso, running from her left shoulder to her right hip. Seconds later another gash appeared at the base of her neck. Blood poured out of the wounds, but the woman didn't seem to notice them as she continued to glare at Angela, her eyes cold and accusing._

_Suddenly, the dark fog was back, rolling into the village centre and once again obscuring Angela's vision. Frantically, she tried to wave the fog aside._

_"No, wait!" Angela cried. The last glimpses of the village disappeared. "Who are you?"_

_The ground began to shake. And then there was light._

* * *

Her eyes shot open and the first thing Angela noticed was that she was surrounded. Almost immediately, she was sitting up and looking around her frantically as her heart galloped along like a racehorse. The place she was in was bright, but directly in her field of vision stood a tall, dark shape.

She blinked several times to help her eyes focus.

"Your tea is being ready, sir," she heard a small voice say and then there was a familiar clink of porcelain.

Her eyes scanned the room again and she realized with relief that she knew this room. It was the Malfoy Manor kitchen. And the dark, looming shape on the other side of the room, was Severus Snape. He was holding a tea cup absently, watching her with an odd expression on his face.

Angela inclined her head to him in a shaky greeting. His eyes narrowed slightly before he abruptly turned around and swept out of the room. She took a deep breath and sighed. The village, the monsters, the female warrior: they were all a dream. But that didn't stop her from feeling uneasy as those cold, accusing eyes stared at her from the back of her mind.

Meanwhile, Severus Snape walked back towards the potion's lab, haunted by an entirely different pair of eyes. The logical part of his mind tried explaining them away as the result of having mistakenly inhaled fumes from one of his experiments, or perhaps lack of sleep. But something in the back of his mind kept overruling the logic and telling him he hadn't imagined anything.

Because, he could've sworn that when Angela first woke up, before she'd properly managed to pull out of the grasp of whatever nightmare the House Elves were attempting to shake her out of, for that brief moment when she'd first looked unfocusedly in his direction, her eyes glowed red.

* * *

"I hate summer," Spike declared as he flopped down onto a chair inside Heathrow airport. "Bloody short nights. Why can't winter have the long days and summer have the short ones?"

Illyria didn't bother responding. Instead she went to stand by the large window where she could see the airplanes taking off. She seemed fascinated by the large, sleek metal birds as they took off into the bright blue sky.

Spike rolled his eyes at the human-looking demon god.

"Never thought that of all things, you'd be fascinated by an airplane," he said. After a few moments had passed, Illyria slowly turned to him.

"I once had a general, who flew like that," she said in a deep voice, signalling that it was indeed the god, not the shadow of Fred that was in charge. She walked over to Spike and sat down next to him.

"So, what happened to this general of yours?" Spike asked. They did have all day to kill after all, since they couldn't go anywhere until it got dark.

"He betrayed me. So I hunted him down and tore the wings out of his body before breaking his limbs and feeding him to my plants."

Spike blinked.

"Plants, luv?"

"Yes. They took an entire moon cycle to devour him completely."

Spike wisely decided to stop there.

"I bloody hope the smoking lounge's open," he mumbled instead.

* * *

Prime Minister Anthony Davidson sipped his second morning coffee as he perused the newspaper. He sighed miserably, remembering a time when he used to enjoy reading the paper. Now it felt like every issue brought him one step closer to doom.

"Ehem, ehem."

The newspaper in his hands suddenly found itself being crushed rather violently as the Prime Minister looked up towards the noise. The man in the painting that hung on his office wall, was clearing his throat.

"Please wait for the arrival of Cornelius Fudge of the Ministry of Magic," the man said with an air of dignity. No sooner had he finished, the fireplace in the room came to life.

For a split second, the flames turned green and then a small, middle-aged man dressed in purple robes stepped out of the fireplace. The Prime Minister glared at the man, but the man missed the glare as he was too busy dusting the ashes off his clothes. By the time the man finally turned to look at the Prime Minister, the glare was replaced by a more appropriate, neutral look.

"Mister Fudge, what brings you here this morning?" the Prime Minister asked, although he was absolutely certain he didn't actually want to know. Good things never came out of this man's visits.

"Aah, good morning, Prime Minister," the portly man said as he bowed slightly. "I trust I'm not interrupting anything important?"

"Would it matter if you were?"

"Ehem, well, due to the urgent nature of my visit, probably not." The former Minister of Magic at least had the decency to look slightly sheepish. The Prime Minister pinched the bridge of his nose as he braced himself for the news.

"Well, what is it then? What's wrong this time?"

"Yes, of course, I'll go straight to the point. Several days ago the Ministry managed to capture a group of Death Eaters as they were attacking a neighbourhood in Cardiff. Much to our surprise, it turned out three of the Death Eaters were American. Naturally, we immediately looked into the matter and our sources have discovered that You-Know-Who has begun to gather supporters from overseas-"

"As fascinating as this is, shouldn't you be telling the Americans about this? After all, that's where the recruitment's taking place. I mean, I have very little influence left in this country let alone in the United States!"

"The Minister of Magic has already spoken with the American Minister of Magic."

"Then, what exactly is the problem?"

"The problem is that American wizards are, shall we say, a tad more 'Muggle aware' and have an easier time blending into Muggle society. Especially those who use darker magicks, since they often have to deal with magical creatures, that seem to prefer hiding within Muggle society. In fact, the American wizards confessed during interrogation to having come to England via one of your, um, ae-ro-plans." Fudge stumbled over the unfamiliar word.

"In short, the Minister of Magic requests that you and your people take extra precautions and be more aware of who you allow into your country. Furthermore, if you would kindly alert us of any suspicious individuals- "

The Prime Minister tuned out the rest of Fudge's speech. He was still trying to process what the man had just said. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. The Wizarding World insisted- no, demanded- he not tell anyone about their existence, yet they wanted him to do something this drastic?

Suddenly, getting thrown out of office didn't sound so unpleasant after all.

* * *

Ginny Weasley ignored her parents as they discussed whatever it was they were discussing. Possibly dinner, or politics, or something equally important. Right now, she didn't think she'd be inclined to care even if they were debating the pros and cons of joining You-Know-Who. Well, maybe she'd care about that. But not much else.

Right now she had bigger worries.

Harry's birthday was in two days. So here she was, in Diagon Alley with her family to buy him a present. And she had no idea what to get him.

Perhaps a Quidditch book? No, that felt like a Hermione gift. A broom shining kit? No, Ron had given him one of those for Christmas one year. The twins were probably getting him joke stuff from their store and Ron's gift would be an assortment of candy. Ginny wanted her gift to be special.

She wasn't his girlfriend anymore, but they weren't just friends either. There was still hope that one day, when everything was all over. . .

Ginny shook her head. Harry had something he had to do right now. All she could do was let him do it and pray he came back to her alive.

Her eyes shone with determination as she looked up again.

'Okay,' she thought. 'I'm here to find a birthday present, not brood. Since I'm not his girlfriend, it should be something simple and fairly inexpensive, but not cheap. And somewhat personal, since I have known him for quite a while and I really like him.'

Half an hour later, Ginny concluded that finding an item that matched her description was not as easy as it sounded. In fact, it seemed near impossible. She was on the verge of giving up and just getting him a tub of broom polish and a handful of Chocolate Frogs.

Especially, since she only had about half an hour left before her dad had to go to work and her mum wouldn't stay in Diagon Alley without him.

Ginny was ripped out of her musings when she realized there was something odd about the regular commotion of London's Wizarding district, or what counted as regular commotion now-a-days. Hushed voices, muffled laughter, a two-year-old throwing a tantrum by the toy store, and the soft rings of bells as doors opened or closed - those were all normal.

The calm, flowing tones of an unknown melody - that was not.

Ginny concentrated on the song, moving all other noises into the background of her mind. It was beautiful. Soon, all she could hear were the clear, melancholy tones of a harp. She didn't know why, but somehow the song struck her as ancient, a memory of something long forgotten. Or perhaps it was just a particularly beautiful ballad, she thought.

Ginny opened her eyes and blinked. She didn't even remember closing them. A sudden urge overcame her; she wanted to meet the musician behind this song. She wanted to know what it was about. Who was it singing to?

The petite red-head glimpsed behind her and saw that her parents were both in deep conversation with some acquaintance from the Ministry she vaguely remembered. Satisfied they wouldn't notice if she snuck away, she set off to find the origin of the mysterious song.

The music led her to a narrow side street she didn't remember ever seeing before, between a trinket store and a ceramics shop. There didn't really seem to be anything in the side street except for closed doors and empty window displays. Not that that was such an unusual sight in Diagon Alley these days, but even in the most deserted areas there were one or two shops struggling to remain opened, their owners adamantly refusing to let the war shut them down.

Abruptly, the street twisted to the left and as Ginny rounded the bend, she finally saw the mysterious musician she'd been looking for.

She was strumming a square-shaped, wooden instrument as she sat on top of a stack of crates that were so haphazardly thrown on top of each other, Ginny wondered how they didn't just topple over. Her hair was a limp, tangled curtain as it hid her face from view. Ginny's eyes were drawn to the heavy, silver bangle the woman wore on her right hand, the turquoise stone set in it moved from side to side as the woman strummed.

One thing was immediately clear to Ginny: this woman was no mere witch. In fact, she wasn't even dressed like one. Instead of robes she wore a simple dress, which at one point in time had probably been white, but was now heavily stained and tattered, especially at the hem. She was barefoot, with a wide gold band covered in red and blue stones on her left ankle. Ginny found herself wondering whether the woman was even human or perhaps a faerie of some sort.

The music stopped.

Ginny looked up and gasped when she found pale blue, unfocused eyes staring intently back at her.

"Greetings, fair maiden," the woman said in a sweet, melodic voice. She cocked her head to the side. "I see a mark upon your soul of a darkness not your own, but one that touched you long ago."

Ginny's eyes widened in surprise. Only very few people knew exactly what had happened to her in first year and unless this woman was some sort of secret member of the Order of the Phoenix, then she shouldn't have been one of them. The redhead took a step backwards.

"Who are you?" she demanded. "And how do you know what happened to me?"

The woman threw her head back and laughed. It was a wild, carefree laughter that seemed completely out of place in the midst of the dark, deserted alley.

"Today I am Phythia," the woman declared. "And I know naught of once to you did happen, but what your soul has told me. Of you fate has not yet spoken." Then the woman turned her head and stared off into the distance.

'Bloody Hell,' thought Ginny in amusement. 'I didn't think it was possible to be stranger than Trelwany. Dressed like that, I'll bet she also thinks she's a Seer.'

Ginny shook her head and decided to head back to her family before they noticed she was gone and started panicking. She turned around and stopped dead in her tracks. Not two steps in front of her, stood the woman. Ginny whirled around to the stack of boxes.

There was no one there.

Slowly, she turned back to look into the eyes of the one who called herself Phythia. Ginny gasped as she saw her eyes up close and realized the strange woman was blind. The woman grinned widely.

"Your heart belongs to your champion," she said and Ginny blinked several times. "But if he does not heed my words, he might not live too long."

"What do you mean?" Ginny demanded, frightened by the woman's words. She suddenly felt very foolish for not even considering the possibility that the strange musician could be a Death Eater. "Do you know something about what's going to happen? Is Harry in danger?"

The woman laughed out loud again .

* * *

"Good morning!" Dawn called out as she walked into the small bakery.

"Aaah, good morning to ye lass!" came the loud, booming voice of the baker. "'Though it be a mite late fer ye to be callin' it morning - why, t'is nearly mid-day!"

"It is not!" Dawn protested, checking her watch. "It's not even ten yet! Not all of us are up at the crack of dawn, you know!"

Just then a short, stumpy man with a large moustache and an even larger beer belly sauntered out of a door that led to the back of the shop and came to stand behind the counter.

"Well, the crack o' dawn is when ye should be up! You youngins these days 'ave no proper common sense."

"Is that old goat bothering ye again?" an equally booming, but this time feminine, voice called out from the back. "Donna ye worry 'bout 'im; jus' tell 'im te bugger off!"

"Oi, hag, who're ye calling an old goat?"

Dawn laughed. She loved the old married couple that ran this small bakery. They seemed to be constantly bickering, but with wide smiles on their face. And, although she'd had better doughnuts, she'd grown to absolutely adore their scones and other pastries.

"So, what'll it be today, lass?" the baker asked.

"Umm, three dozen doughnuts, four blueberry scones and two loaves of bread," Dawn answered.

"My, my, you Americans sure luv yer doughnuts. 'Cause o' you we've 'ad to start making extra batches."

"Yeah, well, it's kind of a tradition with us. Doughnuts stimulate our brain cells and right now we're definitely needing mucho stimulation."

"Aaah, so you've got yerselves a lot of work then, 'ave ye?"

"Yeah."

"You know, I never would've thought meself, that the antics business would be so 'ard. But I guess if a bright, young thing like you is 'aving problems then it must be." He placed two large bags on the counter. "Well, 'ere's your order, lass."

Dawn paid the man and took the bags. Luckily, getting out of the store wasn't a problem, because the door swung outwards.

"Good-bye Mr. and Mrs. Molterd," she called as she walked out. Two voices called their good-byes after her.

Outside, Dawn noticed the sun had begun to come out. She smiled and readjusted the bags she was holding, glad she wasn't going to need the umbrella in her purse, after all.

Then she set off. She wasn't in any hurry, since Xander would complain about how long she took even if she ran back to the Watcher's Council building. However, thinking about Xander made her think about the reason she was bringing doughnuts, which, in turn, made her feel frustrated all over again.

They had a prophesy and all they knew was that the world was going to end. At some point in time. Because of something. Dawn felt like she'd read every single book in their library and surfed through every single site about the occult on the web. And yet she had nothing.

Even the book she'd found it in had nothing much beyond the actual prophesy. In fact, she was starting to wonder just how she had managed to find it. It didn't seem to exist anywhere other than that particular book. Why had she been reading up on ancient demonic legends to begin with?

Her head full of jumbled thoughts, Dawn didn't notice the all-too familiar feeling until it was too late.

* * *

"Oi, are you listening to me?" Ginny was furious. There was a horrible feeling at the pit of her stomach and the reason it was there was laughing freely at ignoring her questions. "Is something going to happen to Harry? I-is he in danger?"

The woman abruptly stopped laughing and cocked her head as she observed Ginny as if she were a strange new creature. Ginny was sick and tired of being stared at by this woman.

"Well? Is he?" Ginny yelled.

The redheaded witch never even saw her move, but suddenly a gentle hand was wiping away the tears Ginny didn't realize she was crying. She looked into Phythia's now-solemn face.

"Everyone is in danger as long as the Snake is strong," she said and then smiled. "They all must fight or everyone will die."

Phythia then took a step back, looking thoughtful for a moment.

"But perhaps you are right, the danger is too great. Your champion does not yet realize what he has been given. So here's a message for you give, the second part of his riddle."

Ginny frowned. The woman took a deep breath and closed her eyes for a moment. Just as Ginny was beginning to get impatient, Phythia's eyes shot wide open. Her eyes seemed focused on something in the distance as she chanted:

"Seven there were, five remain, and time is running short.

When the Snake grows wings, it will be too late,

With wings to see and wings to soar,

his might will be too great.

But with this might, his eyes go blind,

he cannot see the stars.

As his will be done, the end will come,

of what in seven days created was."

"Eh?" was the only thing Ginny could think of in response. "What the bloody hell is that supposed to mean? A snake growing wings? Do you mean You-Know-Who's going to fly off into the sunset or something?"

Phythia didn't answer and instead raised her hands up so they were parallel to the ground and began to twirl on the spot as she laughed out loud. Ginny was ready to growl in frustration.

Suddenly there was a swirl of wind and Ginny saw a movement of brown in the corner of her left eye. She turned towards the movement, not entirely surprised to see Phythia had moved again. Only now she was wearing a brown cloak over her dress.

"When you walk out of this street, to your left do look," Phythia said in a low voice. "And there, perhaps, you will find, what you are searching for."

"Huh? I'm searching for something. . ?" Ginny asked. Phythia just laughed. She then hopped backwards a few steps and then made a sweeping motion with her right hand.

"All the world's a stage, little one," she exclaimed, before winking mischievously, "and now the stage is set."

A strong gust of wind blew Ginny hair into her face. When it settled down, the alley was empty. Ginny sighed, glad the crazy blind woman was gone, before hurrying back to Diagon Alley. She had no idea how long she'd been gone, but surely by now someone had noticed she wasn't with her parents anymore.

However, just as she exited the mysterious street, Ginny did indeed look to her left. And stopped. It was the trinkets shop she'd noticed briefly when she turned here before. She stared at the window display for a moment, at the various amulets hanging there. Her eyes widened as realization hit her.

"Merlin's Beard!" she exclaimed quietly. "That's brilliant! Harry will love it!"

When she exited the shop 15 minutes later, she had a very accomplished grin on her face.

* * *

". . . after all, defeating You-Know-Who and his followers is in all of our best interests," Fudge concluded his rather long-winded argument as to why the Prime Minister should grant the Ministry of Magic's request. In reality, the Prime Minister knew very well that it was more of a demand than a request since he highly doubted the Minister of Magic, Rufus Scrimegour expected to be denied.

The Prime Minister gently massaged his temples, trying to keep the explosion he really wanted to make at bay. He was a politician after all, and thus, had to be diplomatic at all times.

"So, what you're suggesting is that I impose more restrictions and security procedures at security check-points, which are already bogged down enough searching for drugs, firearms and regular terrorists, without giving anyone a reasonable explanation or even what it is they're looking for," he recapped.

"The security of one's citizens is always a good explanation-"

"Look, I don't know how government works for you wizards, but for us lowly 'Muggles' the government is responsible to the people. I cannot simply magic laws and regulations out of thin air. It would look more than a bit suspicious if I did, I can assure you." He took a deep breath. "Not only does my position already hang by a thread, but some of my colleagues have begun to theorize that I know more than I'm telling."

"Which ones?"

The Prime Minister blinked and stared at Fudge as if he'd just proposed to him. "Pardon me?"

"What are the names of those colleagues who have begun to suspect you?"

The Prime Minister narrowed his eyes.

"And why exactly do you want to know that?"

"So that the problem can be appropriately dealt with, obviously."

"No."

"Sorry?"

"No, I won't tell you their names and quite frankly, it's none of your Goddamn business."

Cornelius Fudge seemed to start at the venom in the Muggle Prime Minister's voice. His mouth opened and closed several times, but no sound came out. If the Prime Minister wasn't so angry, he probably would've laughed at the expression.

"I won't let you simply erase their minds and pretend that solves everything."

"Then don't. Look, all we're asking is that you be a bit more thorough when you search people coming into Britain from America. The American President will also be briefed, so there should be no complications-"

"And what exactly would you like me to ask my people to search for? Wooden sticks? Broomsticks? Halloween costumes?"

"No, just anyone who looks suspicious. We can handle the rest."

"We're already doing that. It's called the 'War on Terrorism' or haven't you heard?"

"Well, um, that is to say. . ."

"Look, this whole secrecy thing is ridiculous. In the Middle Ages, during the Spanish Inquisition, I can understand why you'd want to hide your society from the world, but all that's changed."

"That's not up to you to decide! How could a Muggle ever understand our need for secrecy; the Wizarding World stands on the grounds of centuries-old customs and traditions. And yes, at the moment we're having a bit of trouble with a few wayward witches and wizards, but I'm sure we'll manage to sort all that out soon enough. It's only a matter of time."

The Prime Minister finally gave up. He simply couldn't hold it in any longer. In a sudden, violent gesture, he grabbed the partially crumpled-up newspaper from his desk and put it right up in front of Fudge's eyes.

"Yesterday morning, just outside of Splott a quiet little farming family was found slaughtered, no half-eaten, by wild animals. Zoologists apparently think they were wild dogs or wolves. Now, Welsh wolves haven't been particularly known for being violent, so please do try and tell me this has nothing to do with you. That this isn't somehow connected to your rogue dark wizard and his thugs."

"Oh dear, I didn't realize they were so good at identifying injuries. . . I will have to alert the Minister about this. . . "

"People are dying here! They are dying because of their own ignorance. They're in danger and they don't even know it; we're not even giving them the luxury of being able to prepare to fight against it!"

"Don't be ridiculous! As if a Muggle could fight a Wizard and have a chance of winning. I understand that you're upset, however since you have no way of fighting the Death Eaters, you've simply got no choice but to rely on us. If you want to help, to protect your own citizens, then make sure no more dark wizards make it into the country."

The Prime Minister was about to respond when an urgent knock at the door interrupted him.

"Enter!" he snapped, only later realizing that whoever it was possibly shouldn't be allowed to see the wizard currently standing in his office. Although, at least they wouldn't think he had gone mad and started yelling at the walls for his own amusement.

Luckily, it was only his secretary. Or rather, his undercover wizard bodyguard.

"Sir, the Minister of the Home Office just called saying you should turn on the radio and listen to the BBC," he said instead of a greeting. He acknowledged Fudge with a polite nod, before turning back to the Prime Minister. "Apparently there's been an accident or explosion of some sort in North East London - an entire city block has been demolished."

The Prime Minister paled. Somewhere in the distance he could hear a crashing sound. He was sure it was his once promising political career.

Fudge was the first to recover from the initial shock.

"O-oh dear," he said in a shaky voice. "I suppose I should be going then. The Ministry is liable to be in an uproar trying to handle things. I'm sure they could use some experienced leadership right about now."

Kingsley Shacklebot snorted at that statement, but neither politician was paying any attention to him.

* * *

Patches of bright sunlight shone through the trees into the dense undergrowth of the jungle floor. A myriad of colourful flowers blossomed underneath its gaze, together with more shades of green than could be found on any painter's pallet. Not a single breeze blew. Not a single raindrop fell. Yet everything was moving.

From the trees came a great rustling of leaves and feathers as a small flock of red and blue birds suddenly took off for another tree. A group of monkeys laughed at them from a neighbouring one, perhaps knowing why the birds had fled.

At the foot of one of the trees, a rather large bug landed on a pointy, green leaf. Seconds later, a large tongue sprang out of nowhere and snatched it up. The frog it belonged to ribbited in a satisfied tone and hopped away, towards a particularly bright patch of sun.

In the middle of said sunny patch, A long, green lizard sunned itself contentedly on top of a felled tree. It was completely still, eyes closed, like a statue made of jade. Except for its tongue, which flicked out once. Twice.

Suddenly, the lizard's eyes opened. A flash of green, and it was gone, scurrying away from the patch of sun and the fallen tree. Along the jungle floor it ran: climbing over rocks, through bushes and under logs. Then the jungle ended and the lizard found itself in front of a stone structure.

It didn't look to be very large, although it was overgrown with vegetation and the back of it disappeared into the depths of the jungle, making it hard to tell just how far the structure actually spread. Its entrance was simple, just a rectangular opening with two massive pillars standing in front of it. In fact, the entire structure was void of any sort of ornamentation whatsoever, except for a faded carving of some sort of winged creature above the entrance.

The lizard paused for a moment in front of the building. Then it was off again, ignoring the obvious entranceway and, instead, disappearing through a crack in the wall.

Inside, the lizard scurried down a long corridor. It was cool and damp, giving the impression that wherever the lizard had managed to come out, it was underground. The only sign of life was a row of lit torches that extended along one side of the corridor.

The lizard turned a corner and stopped, confused and blinded momentarily by a bright light coming from the room at the end of this new corridor. Its tongue flicked out a few times and then it continued on towards the room.

By the far wall of the room stood a three-metre-tall statue of a grotesque-looking man wearing an elaborate head piece, holding a sun in his right hand and a knife in his left. Winding around his torso, was a thick snake. In front of the statue, towards the centre of the large room, was a slab of stone: an altar.

Above the altar, there was a girl. Her eyes were closed as she sat cross-legged, hovering about a metre above the stone. Her bright red hair was being blown away from her face by a wind that shouldn't have been there, streaks of white light illuminating it. It wasn't just her hair that was glowing; her entire body emanated white light, which at the same time felt both gentle and harsh.

The lizard scurried up the altar, until it was within reach of the invisible force that was creating both the light and the wind. Its tongue flicked out and touched it.

Green eyes shot open.

"Dawn," the girl gasped.

The lizard scurried away.

The girl straightened her legs so that she was now standing on top of the stone altar. The strange wind around her stopped blowing and the light dimmed.

"Oh my goddess," the girl whispered, a look of horror on her face. "Dawn!"

The light disappeared completely and Willow Rosenburg jumped down from the altar and rushed out of the temple. The torches each extinguished themselves as she ran by.

Only one torch remained burning at the foot of the statue, where a long, green lizard lay in its light and folded its, suddenly visible, wings.

* * *

Rupert Giles stared at the scene before him. He had thought years of living on top of the Hellmouth, coupled with his turbulent youth, had prepared him for anything. Apparently, he'd been wrong.

Judging by how he couldn't quite get his legs, or hands, or mind to work, he was clearly not prepared for the sight of an entire London block in ruins. He knew he should be worried about Dawn, possibly even trying to find her amongst the debris, but all he could do was stare.

Giles took off his glasses and began to clean them. He knew the others laughed about his little habit, but he found the simple, methodical act quite calming. Nothing magical, or mystical about it. All it took was a handkerchief and suddenly glasses that were smudged and dirty became clear again and he could see everything around him better.

His cleaning finished, Giles stuffed the piece of cloth back into his jacket pocket and put his glasses back on. As he'd predicted, the block still looked a mess, but now he could see it better. Firemen and rescue workers rushed about with dogs, trying to find any remaining survivors. And quite a few people stood by, taking pictures of the scene.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Faith talking to a police officer. Xander stood a few steps away from her, talking on his cell. He looked away. They could handle it - in fact they seemed to be handling it better than he was.

It simply felt so surreal. And apparently, he wasn't the only one who felt it. Everyone, including the civilians, was oddly calm - there was no panicking of any kind. He supposed the truly hysterical ones had already gone home. After all, it was now two hours after the accident.

He had never been quite as thankful as he was now for Lori's habit of always keeping a muted television on in the background, tuned to BBC 1. Otherwise it probably would've taken them much longer to find out what had happened.

He only hoped Dawn had taken a different route on her way home.

There was something tugging at the back of his mind. His Hellmouth-born instincts were flaring to life and trying to tell him something was off, that he was missing something. . . If only he had been here sooner, when events were still happening. . .

"Of course!" Giles exclaimed quietly, his eyes wide in realization.

The people, the scene: everything was so quiet, so calm. Too calm. Like Sunnydale. But Sunnydale was a Hellmouth, and as such somehow managed to naturally maintain a calm atmosphere. Most people who lived in the town knew "something" went on at night, yet they went happily about their daily lives without a hint of curiosity about this ominous "something".

Giles closed his eyes and concentrated. He shed his mind of all thoughts other than the calmness surrounding him, this intensely surreal feeling. He felt it slowly leaving him, parting around him like smoke before a fan. And when enough of it was gone that it was no longer a hindrance, all he could feel was - magic.

Giles's eyes snapped open. He looked around with wide eyes. The entire area was filled with magic, strong magic. He cursed himself for not noticing it right away, but then he had probably been under the influence of whatever spell this was, just like everyone else.

Somehow, he doubted it was unrelated to the accident. Or to Dawn's disappearance.

"Yo, G-man, you look confused," a voice said from right beside Giles, making him start slightly. He turned to see Faith and Xander standing next to him. He hadn't seen them come his way.

"Y-yes, well, I think I feel some sort of magic around here," said Giles slowly. "It's quite strong and I'm not sure what that means. . . but something definitely happened here and someone took great pains to cover it up."

"Cover it up? What do you mean?" Xander asked.

"Haven't you noticed how calm it is?"

"Yeah, now that you mention it, it is kinda like Sunnydale after an apocalypse."

"I think it's a spell. Someone cast a spell to make people calm and relatively uninterested in what happened here."

"Well, Mr. Policeman there said they think one of the gas pipes exploded," Faith commented.

Xander shook his head. "Geez, you'd think they'd start coming up with something a bit more original."

"Well, if people are stupid enough to believe it..." Faith shrugged. "So what about you, Cyclops?"

"No luck. I called the hospital the police guy said they were taking the injured to, but they said they hadn't admitted Dawn or anyone who looks like her."

"I don't think I like the sound of that," Giles admitted.

"Me neither."

The three of them looked at one another, not saying a word.

"Herr Giles, Herr Giles!" Giles and the others looked to the side to see Renata running towards them with a green something in her hand.

"Ich hab die Handtasche von Dawn gefunden," she said. They all blinked at her.

"Umm, Renata, honey," Xander began slowly, "Don't know 'bout the rest here, but the only gibberish I speak is English."

The girl blinked and then her eyes widened.

"Entschuldigung," she said quickly. "I mean. . . I'm sorry. Is this Dawn's handbag?"

She held up a familiar pea green object. It was dirty and one strap was burned off. Faith took the purse and opened it. She dug through it for a few seconds, before taking out a set of keys on a Scoobie Doo keychain.

"Yup, this is definitely Dawn's," Faith announced.

"This is so beyond 'not good'," said Xander to no one in particular.

* * *

Author's Notes

:

**Prime Minister** - I checked and J.K. doesn't seem to give Britain's Prime Minister a name, so I made one up. In case you're wondering, it's a combination of Anthony Stewart Head (Giles) and Peter Davidson (the 5th Doctor). Why those two? No particular reason, it just sounded good. All other politician names are also my inventions.

**Phythia** - Big surprise, she's back in the author's notes. Again, I could pretty much write an essay just about her, so if you have any questions please ask since there's almost nothing about her that isn't deliberate.

1. The instrument she's playing when Ginny finds her is called a **Kithara**, an ancient Greek instrument that's a bit like a lyre. It's associated with the Greek god Apollo. For more info, check out http:/enDOTwikipediaDOTorg/wiki/Kithara

2. "All the world's a stage.. . " That line belongs to Shakespeare, not me.

**Cardiff, Splott **- No, I haven't been watching Torchwood lately. . . nope, not at all. . .

**Mr. Molterd **- Not an important character, but just thought I'd mention that he's based on a character of the same name from the Britcom _Are You Being Served?Again_. For some reason his character popped into my mind for that scene and I couldn't get rid of it.

**South American temple **- The temple and the statue inside it are my own creations, however the winged lizard is based on the Mayan god Kukulcan, or Quetzalcoatl, who is depicted as an upside down winged snake. Think of the one in the story as a sort of distant cousin (at one point in time during the evolutionary process, snakes did in fact have legs - or if you want to take a more spiritual standpoint, then the Bible states that the snake used to have legs, but lost them as punishment for tempting Eve; this snake spirit is very old and definitely not Christian).

It has no real bearing on the story, except that I got inspired to write it. If you want to see some significance in the lizard's presence then you can consider it proof of how powerful, yet positive, a presence Willow is if the guardian spirits of the forest are helping her.

**"Ich fand das Handtasche von Dawn"** - "I found Dawn's handbag"

**"Entschuldigung" **- "Sorry"

In case you didn't realize this the first time she appeared (although it was only for a few moments, so I wouldn't blame anyone if they didn't), Renata's from Germany. Anyone who's bilingual has likely done this; when they're either in distress or being inattentive, to sometimes revert back to whichever language they're most comfortable with without even realizing. I know I've done it. Although, likely in real life Renata would've probably said something a bit more slang-ish or sophisticated than that, but since all I have to go on is some rusty school-taught German, this is what you get.

* * *

Well, I hope you liked that. Please review and let me know what you thought. Also, I noticed afterwards I seem to be doing a lot of plot breaks for things happening at the same time - is it hard to follow what's going on when I do that?


	7. Chapter 7

**Prophecy of the Four**

Chapter 7 - A Call to Arms

Constantine LeBeau was a handsome man: shoulder-length, wavy, chestnut brown hair, striking, deep blue eyes, broad shoulders and a sturdy build. He'd been a beautiful child as well, always receiving much more attention and admiration than all the other children. Naturally, he was always acutely aware of this attention, which was likely why he'd first began, at the tender age of six, to develop a sense of how manipulate people into doing things or getting him things. Sometimes all it took was just the right smile, or perhaps a quiet look of longing and suddenly he had his hands full of a huge stuffed bear or chocolate cookies.

It was probably this ability that won the son of a famous wizard historian a spot in the noble House of Slytherin and later guaranteed his success as a merchant of rare potions ingredients. Indeed, he had a reputation for being able to acquire just about anything, provided the interested party was willing to pay for the inconvenience. All completely legal, of course.

But, at the moment, the potions ingredient business was just his cover. At the moment, Constantine LeBeau was, first and foremost, a Death Eater.

However, it was in the guise of a rich merchant that he currently trudged through what seemed to be a completely forgotten part of Knockaburn Alley. Where the first few blocks of the alley was dark and dirty, the part he found himself in now looked as if it were actively decaying before his eyes. The air smelled of garbage left outside for too long on a very sunny day and he had long ago learned not to look too closely at the various lumps that littered the edges of the street. One half-decayed cat corpse was enough for his stomach and he was probably better off not knowing the identity of the various dark smudges running up the sides of the gray buildings.

At the moment he wished for nothing more than to be able to turn around and leave this horrible place. He couldn't, of course; his master had sent him on a mission. Every book he'd read had spoken of the Gem of Amara as nothing but a fairy tale, yet according to his sources, there was someone living amongst this filth, who, nonetheless, might know where to find it.

As he rounded yet another corner, he finally saw it. A dark yellow house, smaller than all the rest, with a mostly-green, copper plaque hanging above the doorway. It wasn't until he was standing directly below it that he could make out the pictures of three animals: a stag, a wolf, and a ram.

He braced himself and stepped inside.

The shop was in a state of semi-organized clutter and smelt heavily of incense and dust. He allowed a few moments for his eyes to adjust to the dim light provided by a few metal lanterns hanging from the ceiling and began to browse. There were shelves full of books and shelves full of swords, axes and other weaponry - all heaped on top of each other in no distinguishable order - and a glass case that housed a collection of various stones, crystals, statuettes and a few mummified hands. LeBeau certainly found his curiosity peaked and he found himself wondering how much of the seeming junk was actually worth something.

A floorboard creaked behind him and he spun around.

"Well, well, well, if it isn't a snake," a raspy, high-pitched voice said from the shadows of a doorway hidden between two massive bookshelves. "What is it that brings you so far from your den, little snake?"

"I- Ehem, my name is Constantine LeBeau," the wizard cleared his throat, while chastising himself mentally for stuttering. It was not a good way to start a business transaction. He put on a friendly, yet professional, smile. "I am the owner of a small shop that specializes in rare potions ingredients-"

"But that is not why you're here, Mr. LeBeau," the voice cut him off. Despite sounding like a sickly old woman, there was a firmness in the voice, a hint of authority. "If you ventured all the way here from your comfortable office in Diagon Alley, then surely you are not after some mere potions ingredient."

LeBeau narrowed his eyes at the almost mocking tone the voice had acquired. But he supposed he would not have been able to pretend for very long anyway. He held out his left arm and slowly exposed the skin of his forearm, revealing a Dark Mark.

"I am searching for an artefact called the Gem of Amara. I was told you might know of it."

There was a quiet chuckle. Then a thin, hunched-over figure stepped out of the shadows and into the dim light of the shop. Long, light brown hair hung in a tangled mess down to her knees, without obscuring her pale, impossibly smooth skin and pale green, blood-shot eyes. She was wearing plain black robes.

"I do indeed know of it," she said with a smirk. "I also know you search futilely."

"I realize most books refer to it as a mere myth, but my Master has reason to believe it actually exists. I do not consider any information futile."

He reached for his wand. Apparently, the old hag would need to be persuaded to help him.

"I know very well the Gem of Amara is no mere myth." LeBeau lowered his wand, confusion written across his face. "In fact, it was uncovered in America several years ago by none other than William the Bloody."

LeBeau's eyes widened. William the Bloody? He remembered the name from a Defence Against the Dark Arts class.

"If such a powerful vampire had the gem, then why have we not heard of it?"

"He lost it to his grand-sire, Angelus, who destroyed it."

"Angelus?! But why would he destroy something so powerful?"

"Hm, your ignorance is quite impressive, Wizard." She spat out the title as if it were a curse. "One hundred years ago, Angelus drank from the wrong girl - a gypsy princess. Her clan cursed him, gave him back his soul and forced him to bear the guilt of his sins. Now he fights against the darkness, kills his own kind. He will be of no use to you."

"I see." LeBeau paused to assess the information he'd just received. The Dark Lord would be disappointed, but at least he'd found information about the gem. Suddenly, an idea hit him. "Old woman, do you know of any other such weapons? Magical weapons that give power? You shall be richly rewarded for any information."

"Oh? I will, will I?"

The hag grinned, showing two rows of surprisingly clean, albeit crooked teeth. Then she slowly moved towards one of the bookcases at the back of the shop. LeBeau followed her, staying a few steps behind. She stopped and pointed at one of the shelves.

"The volumes here: you may take them with you and give them to your master," she said. "Within their pages, I'm sure he will find what he is searching for."

The wizard stepped up to the shelf in question. There were about a dozen large, yellowish volumes on the shelf. He breathed a sigh of relief; now he could return with more than just bad news.

* * *

A magnificent, green dragon spread its wings and let out a silent roar as it prepared to take off from its perch on top of a nameless cliff. Most likely, it was calling to its comrades, many of whom already soared the painted skies on the walls of the grand ballroom within Malfoy Manor. 

However, the dragon went completely ignored by the Dark Lord Voldemort, who leaned against the wall beside it. He was too busy soaking in the atmosphere of fear and pain that surrounded him. The room was eerily silent. All screams had been silenced with spells - and the Muggles who weren't silenced were unconscious.

The latest attack had been a mitigated success and left two entire city blocks of London in ruin. He smirked as he tried to imagine how big Scrimgeour's headache must be at the moment as the Ministry of Magic attempted to cover up the entire thing. Sometimes, the stupidity of Muggles truly astounded him.

From the corner of his eye, Voldemort noticed one of his Death Eaters approaching. He stepped away from the wall and turned to face him. The Death Eater bowed to him.

"Master, as requested, I have selected a dozen of the Muggles to be kept alive," said the Death Eater. "They have been separated from the rest and the injured ones are having their wounds tended to."

"Good."

"Milord, may I ask why you required them to be young and pretty?"

"You may. As you already know, their primary purpose will be to become practice targets for our youngest recruits to train their spells on, however I've decided it would also be advantageous for us if we could bring one or two out when questioning captured Aurors. Or, one of Dumbledore's people." The Dark Lord grinned maliciously. "Not even the most battle-hardened Auror can turn his eyes away from a pretty girl in pain."

"I see. That is a brilliant idea, Master."

"Naturally."

"Shall I place them in the dungeons, then?"

"Yes."

The Death Eater rose and turned to leave.

"Oh, and Lucius?" The death eater stopped in his tracks and turned back to his master. "Don't use any restraining charms; just chain them to the walls. The less spells we mix around them, the better. You know, in case Severus needs a test subject for one of his potions. In fact, you can tell your son he'll be in charge of guarding the prisoners along with the other young recruits. I'm sure he's more than eager for a change from preparing potions ingredients."

"He'll be most honoured."

With that, the Death Eater left to oversee the transfer of prisoners. Voldemort scanned the ballroom one last time and left.

When he entered his sitting room, Angela was already there with a tea service. She looked up briefly when he entered before she began to pour his tea. The Dark Lord sat down and accepted the offered cup.

Angela bowed slightly.

"Will there be anything else, my lord?" she asked.

"No, that will be all," Voldemort dismissed her as he picked up a rather old and thick volume off of the stack on the coffee table and opened it to the first page. He heard muffled steps retreating across the room.

Minutes passed by and Voldemort was on his fifth page, when he suddenly realized he'd never heard the door open, or close. He looked up from his book Sure enough, Angela was still there.

Bathed in the orange and pink hues of the setting sun, he would have called her enchanting, had he even half a mind to care for such things. She stood completely motionless, staring out the window at the multicoloured sky.

Voldemort raised an eyebrow. "Something the matter?" he asked.

She didn't acknowledge him at first, only cocked her head.

"I'm not - I don't know," she finally answered, sounding like she was in a daze. "Something's changed. Or, perhaps, something's arrived. It's still far away, but I think it'll be coming. Soon."

Voldemort frowned. "What is this something? Is it a threat?"

Angela turned to him and blinked. Then she lowered her head and smiled apologetically.

"I'm sorry, my lord, I don't even know how I know this. I cannot give this feeling a name, let alone tell you what it's telling me." She paused and looked out the window again, a slight frown on her face. "Though, it doesn't feel frightening, I suppose."

"I see. . ."

Voldemort studied the girl. She was so good at simply serving tea and acting unobtrusive, he'd almost forgotten why he'd kept her around in the first place. Perhaps he should begin to take more active steps to solve this mystery that surrounded her.

He had once read a book about Muggles with latent magical abilities. That sometimes, Mudbloods, whose magical powers are still dormant when they turned 11, get missed by magic schools - only to develop odd powers later in life. Like wild magic, except that the adult mind is more focused than a child's and less imaginative. Sometimes, the powers would be so subtle, they'd go completely unnoticed. He remembered finding the book rather interesting, if pretentious. Muggles with magical abilities? What a ridiculous idea.

Except that suddenly he found himself wondering if Muggles could be seers.

Angela's eyes widened suddenly and she looked back to Voldemort.

"Oh, I-I'm sorry," she stammered and then bowed. "I-I seem to have forgotten myself. My apologies. Will you be wanting more tea later?"

The Dark Lord almost gaped at the girl's sudden personality shift. However, he composed himself quickly.

"No, I don't think so. You may leave."

"Thank you, my lord."

This time, she really did leave.

* * *

A yellow-skinned, five-horned demon crashed onto a solid oak bar table, completely destroying the table and startling its occupant. The demon picked itself up from the debris and growled, bright green eyes glowing murderously in the dim lighting of the London pub. No sooner was it standing, a dark figure with pale skin and platinum blond hair seemed to appear in front of it. The demon just barely managed to block a punch from the figure. Then it dodged to the right and swung its left fist. However, before the fist had a chance to connect, the demon was doubling over from a well-aimed kick. 

The dark form took a step back and knocked the yellow demon to the side with a spin kick. It left a hole in the wall with a resounding crash. His opponent stalked over the demon, black leather duster swishing around his legs. He reached down and picked the slumped demon up by the neck, easily lifting it above his head, despite looking roughly half the demon's size and weight.

The demon glared at the vampire who held him with impotent fury.

"Now then, mate, let's try this again, shall we?" Spike said coolly as he reached for his cigarette and lighter, placing the cigarette in his mouth and lighting it. He replaced the lighter and looked into the demon's eyes.

"The name's Spike. And s'far as I can recall, I asked you where I could _find_ this Voldemort, not where I could go to join his fan club."

Illyria watched the scene idly from her seat at the bar. As far as she was concerned, the demon had been lucky it had been Spike he insulted. She wouldn't have bothered with any pleasantries and simply ripped his spine out through his neck.

She took a sip of her strawberry-flavoured vodka cooler.

She and Spike had wandered London for a few hours before coming upon this demon bar and so far she decided she liked this city far better than Los Angeles or New York.. It felt older. And despite reeking of humans just as much as the American cities had, there was something underlying that. It was almost subtle and probably went unnoticed by the humans and their dull senses, but Illyria felt it. There was magic, yes - old and powerful spells - but there was something else as well.

Something that made Illyria feel almost homesick. As if she could close her eyes and imagine herself within her castle garden, walking amongst the bright orange buds on her flesh-eating bushes. Or listening to her pet dragons call to each other before attacking a stray basilisk that'd managed to slither its way into the garden.

She took another sip of her drink.

Apparently, the yellow demon hadn't given Spike a satisfactory answer, because suddenly it was being punched into a wall. Illyria heard three ribs crack.

"Oi, luv." Illyria turned her head to look at the bartender. "Don't suppose you could get yer friend there to stop destroying the place. I mean, if he really has to beat the shit out of Gaslak, couldn't he do it outside?"

Illyria turned around to face the young, green-haired demon currently polishing a martini glass. She fixed him with a hard gaze and noted his flinch with satisfaction.

"Do you have the information we require?" she finally asked him. The bartender blinked in surprise.

"Huh?"

"We are looking for the sorcerer called Voldemort. Do you know where he is?"

"Well, not exactly. . . I mean, they say not even his most trusted followers know where he is most of the time."

"You know of him, though?"

"Of course. Would have to be blind and deaf not to have."

"Then you will tell us."

He looked as if he was about to protest when a crash from the back of the bar made him flinch.

"All right, all right! I have a cousin who's done some business with the wizards. I don't know much, but I'll tell you what I can. Just call off your friend. Please."

Illyria nodded once and got up. Mere seconds later, she was standing beside Spike.

"Spike," she said. The blond vampire turned to her, mid-punch.

"Yeah, Blue?"

"Leave this weakling; he knows nothing. The bartender says he can give us information if you cease with your destruction of furniture."

Spike shrugged and let go of the demon, who slumped to the ground in a semi-recognisable heap of flesh, blood and torn clothes.

"Illyria says you've got info for us, so start spilling," said Spike as he sat down at the bar, picking up the bottle of beer he'd discarded earlier and finishing it off in several gulps.

"I suppose so. . . " the bartender looked thoughtful for a moment. "I mean, if you want to find Voldemort, the first place you should go is the Wizarding World itself-"

"Hang on!" Spike raised a hand in order to stop the demon from continuing. "This doesn't involve finding a cafe, does it?"

"Um, no, a pub called the Leaky Cauldron."

"Well, I do like the idea of chasing after a pub a tad better. Does it move?"

The young demon now looked thoroughly confused. "Move? No, it's been in the same spot for the past 350 years."

"Good. Stationary pubs are always the best."

"Yes, of course. . ."

Spike suddenly seemed to realize the bartender had no idea what he was talking about and thus might think he was crazy in an altogether non-psychotic way.

"Ehem, yes, well, anyway. So, basically we find a pub called the Something Cauldron-"

"The Leaky Cauldron. It's got a spell put on it so people with no magical powers can't see it."

"And that'll take us to the Wizards."

"Yes, Diagon Alley, which is their main shopping district. Although, you two should probably head to Knockburn Alley if you're looking for Voldemort. My cousin says that's where all the darker stuff lives. See, wizards don't like us demons and other magical creatures much - fancy themselves superior - which is why Voldemort's managed to collect so much support from the werewolves, dementors and vampires."

"Dementors? Never 'eard of 'em. They some kind of demon?"

The demon thought about it for a moment.

"Sort of. They're really more like apparitions or phantoms; make humans relive their worst memories before devouring their souls. Used to be the guard dogs at the Wizard prison."

"They sound lovely."

"Well, they don't really have much effect on demons s'far as I know."

"Harder to scare a demon."

"Exactly."

Spike threw a few pounds on the table and got up to leave.

"Well, we'd best be going now. Thanks for the info, mate."

"Anytime."

The bartender gave a sigh of relief as he watched the two walked out of the bar and hoped Spike wouldn't actually be back. Ever.

* * *

Morning sun streamed into the quiet office, landing directly onto the corner of the desk and illuminating a large, black coffee mug half-full of cold coffee. At the mahogany desk, Prime Minister Anthony Davidson sat reading a report from the afternoon's attack. The destruction was horrible: two entire city blocks demolished, close to 50 people injured, 10 confirmed dead and at least two dozen missing entirely. He wouldn't be at all surprised if people had finally stopped believing the official 'gas explosion' story. 

He reached over for the coffee mug and took a sip, making a face at the taste of cold coffee in his mouth. He despised cold coffee, but didn't feel like asking his secretary for more. Idly, he wondered if the wizard knew a spell for reheating coffee without it actually tasting like reheated coffee. After all, the wizards had to have at least a few useful spells at their disposal..

He sighed and put the mug down again. What he really wanted to do was scream.

Abruptly, the Prime Minister stood from his desk and turned his back on it, heading towards the window behind it. Below him, he saw the street: cars drove by, people walked and pigeons surrounded a biscuit someone must've dropped. They were all going about their normal lives, completely unaware of the danger that lurked in the shadows, from a world they were equally ignorant of.

He wished he could be one of them.

It wasn't like this was the first time England was under attack. He had fond memories of sitting in front of the fireplace at his grandparent's house in Newport, listening to his grandfather's tales of huddling in bomb shelters and then running outside to see if his house was still standing, of meeting American soldiers and their funny speech and then being evacuated from London to the house of some crabby old maid whose face resembled a mule who'd eaten a very sour crab apple. But unlike the Second World War, this war was silent, a secret.

He wondered if Winston Churchill had felt the same kind of frustration when the country refused to listen to his warnings about the Germans. Except that at least Churchill could talk and warn people of the danger. His hands weren't tied.

His grandfather had loved Churchill. As a boy, Anthony had thought of the former Prime Minister as the epitome of leadership. Since his boyhood he'd, of course, learned more about the man and came to realize that wasn't quite true, but he still couldn't help but admire him for leading Britain through the war.

"We shall not flag or fail," Anthony Davidson whispered. This was his grandfather's favourite quote and in his own youthful enthusiasm, he'd memorized it years ago. "We shall go on to the end. We shall fight in France, we shall fight on the seas and oceans, we shall fight with growing confidence and growing strength in the air. We shall defend our island, whatever the cost may be. We shall fight on the beaches, we shall fight on the landing-grounds, we shall fight in the fields and in the streets, we shall fight in the hills. We shall never surrender!"

He looked up into the bright blue sky, at the gray clouds trying to mare its perfection, with a new fire in his eyes, a flame of fresh determination. His right hand curled into a fist.

"I shall not surrender."

Moments later, Prime Minister Anthony Davidson was back at his desk and opening up an internet browser at his computer.

* * *

At approximately eight o'clock that evening, Finance Minister Norman Callaghan relaxed into his favourite leather armchair and tuned out the cartoons his children were watching so he could turn on his laptop and check his personal e-mail. He opened his inbox just as his wife brought him a cup of tea. He thanked her. 

His eyes widened as he spied an e-mail address he hadn't seen in his inbox in a very, very long time. He didn't think Anthony Davidson used that account anymore. He opened the letter marked "Please Read - Very Important".

**Norman,**

**I thank you for the concern you showed me the other day. It's taken me a while, but I think now know what I must do. You were right: I do know more than I'm saying. However, there is a reason behind my silence. Or at least there was. Now, I'm simply too fed up to hold my tongue.**

**I need you to do me a favour. Could you please arrange an informal gathering between the cabinet ministers, Baroness Richmond of the House of Lords, George Sworsky of Scotland Yard, General Baker and the leader of the opposition. But please do so as discretely as possible and do not mention it in the vicinity of my office. Let me know of the date and time for this gathering, but please try and make it as soon as possible.**

**I assure you there is a very good reason for this secrecy and I shall explain it fully at the gathering. For now, all I shall say is that our beloved country is in danger.**

**Yours truly,**

**Anthony.**

The Finance Minister stared at his computer screen. He snorted, the formal, almost dramatic tone of the e-mail definitely meant it was from the Prime Minister - his correspondence always became slightly embellished when he was stressed. Norman Callaghan hit reply.

**Alright, for now I'll put my trust in you. If for no other reason, then out of sheer curiosity. I'll arrange the gathering. But you had better have one hell of an explanation for all of this.**

**-Norman**

* * *

_A kind face framed by curls smiled down at her lovingly. It had been so long since Dawn had seen her mother - a lifetime ago. She felt like crying with joy. In fact, she was sure there already were tears streaming down her face as she embraced her._

_"Mom," Dawn whispered, not caring where they were or that this was probably just a dream. She closed her eyes and smelt her mother's perfume, relishing the feeling of once again being held by those warm arms._

_Joyce Summers smiled at her daughter happily. She understood this wasn't really her own flesh and blood, that she hadn't really given birth to this child, but none of that mattered. This child was precious to her and so she hugged her even tighter, almost desperately._

_"Dawn," she said, pulling away in order to look at her daughter properly. She smiled sadly at the tears streaming down the girl's face. "No matter what happens, remember that I love you and that you will always be my daughter."_

_"I love you too, mom. But what do you mean, no matter what happens?"_

_"Don't worry, you'll figure it out. Everything: you'll figure it out in time. Just be patient." Joyce paused and seemed to look off into the distance for a while. Then she giggled and looked back to Dawn with an amused twinkle in her eyes. "Especially with him."_

_"Huh? Him? Him, who?" _

_Joyce smiled at her and embraced her once again before placing a gentle kiss on Dawn's forehead._

_"Take care, sweetie. Both of you are so strong. I'm very proud of you. You can do it; I know you can."_

_"Mom? MOM!"_

_Dawn reached out for her mother desperately, even as the familiar face began to dissolve in front of her, becoming lost in a cloud-like fog. Even as the clouds began to turn into a bright light, she swore she could hear a whispered 'I love you' reach her ears. . ._

The white light behind her eyes faded and was replaced by a darker, more orange light. There was no soft warmth and, instead, Dawn felt cold, hard floor beneath her. She stretched her limbs and groaned at how sore and heavy they seemed. Hellmouth-born reflexes told her that wherever she was, there was someone else with her and they were coming closer.

She opened her eyes, flinching at the new light in the room. It felt as if someone had stretched a cobweb in front of her face; she couldn't see anything clearly, only light and a shape in the corner of the room. She tried opening her eyes for a second time, only this time she saw the shape of a person.

Pale skin, light blond hair and dark clothes that seemed to flow around him. And a feeling of darkness.

"Sp-Spike?" Dawn rasped, realizing suddenly that her throat felt like those cobwebs had gotten in there too. She coughed. "Spike, is that you? You, you're really alive?"

The figure recoiled away from her.

"What the bloody hell are you on about? I'm not some pathetic Muggle friend of yours!" came an angry, definitely _not_ familiar voice.

Dawn shook her head and pushed herself into a sitting position. Raising her right hand to her face in order to wipe the sleep from her eyes took a lot more effort than she ever remembered it taking. Something cold bumped against her cheek and made her look at her hand. There was a thick, metal cuff around her wrist. She looked down at her left hand and saw the same. She followed the chain coming from it and found it was attached to a stone wall behind it.

Suddenly, she remember what had happened. She was walking home from the bakery, absorbed in her own thoughts, when she suddenly felt the air become charged with magic. There was an explosion and Dawn was sure she remembered seeing some sort of cloaked figures waving something when the world went black.

Dawn looked around the room she was in. It was tiny, with one little window at the very top corner where she could see some sort of really tall and really boring grass. The thing in the corner she'd noticed earlier was a wooden chair. There was a metal pail sitting next to it. Even before she saw the heavy bars that separated her room from the hallway, she'd already come to the conclusion she was in a dungeon.

"Well, crap," she said quietly. She groaned. "Buffy is sooo going to kill me."

"Aww, I think I'm actually disappointed," the voice from before said, mockingly. "I'll admit all the screaming and begging for mercy from before was annoying, but it would've been nice to get at least some sort of a reaction."

Dawn looked up to the blond boy from before. Now that she wasn't half-asleep and bleary-eyed, she realized he looked nothing like Spike. His hair didn't look bleached and it wasn't actually short, but tied back at the nape of his neck to form a short, stubby ponytail. He was also much younger - probably around Dawn's own age if not younger. Instead of a leather duster, he was wearing black robes. And he was most definitely human.

Dawn shrugged, ignoring for the moment the superior smirk on his face.

"Sorry, I'm from Sunnydale," she said. Then she coughed again. "Don't suppose I could get some water?"

The boy looked surprised.

"An American?" he said.

"Born and bred."

"I suppose it doesn't really matter where you're from, a Muggle's still just a filthy Muggle."

"Huh? Muggle? Is that some weird fancy word for a sacrifice? Or am I a hostage this ti-"

"You're a prisoner and that's all you need to know, Muggle!"

Dawn was surprised by his outburst. Apparently, she'd managed to throw him off balance by reacting differently than expected. She thought that was kind of funny.

"Right, okay, just a prisoner, got it. So, then what's a Muggle?"

He glared at her.

"A Muggle is a person without any magical powers."

Dawn's eyes widened as she realized this time her abduction could be a case of 'wrong place, wrong time', that it was entirely possible that whoever had kidnapped her had no idea who, or what, she was. The boy obviously took her reaction as a sign of surprise or fear. His smirk was suddenly back along with that annoying smugly superior look.

"That's right, magic is real. And soon the entire world will know it as the Dark Lord rises and takes control of everything. Then filth like you will take your rightful place below us wizards." He grinned triumphantly.

"There should be an evil laugh at the end there," Dawn commented a minute later.

"What?"

"At the end of what you just said, you totally needed an evil laugh there. Or did you not get to that chapter in evil minion school?"

Anger erupted in the boy's eyes.

"How dare you make fun of me, you bitch!" he hissed.

Suddenly, he whipped a stick out of his pocket and pointed it at her.

"I'll show you what magic can do. _Crucio_!"

A yellow beam shot out of the stick and hit Dawn. Suddenly, all her nerves were on fire and Dawn screamed. And kept screaming as her entire body just kept burning until she thought it would explode from the inside.

Then, just as suddenly, the fire stopped and Dawn slumped against the wall, panting from exertion. She could still feel her every one of her nerves, where the spell had touched them and she could tell she was shivering. Slowly, she opened her eyes, only to find the shapes around her were just as blurry as they were when she'd first woken up. The first things she could make out were the bars to her prison cell. Something dark moved in the shadows, but it was gone before she could figure out what it was.

Then she turned to the boy. There was an odd look on his face. Regret? She had no time to analyse it, because it was gone as soon as he realized she was looking at him. He brought the stick up again. Dawn flinched. She heard him whisper something under his breath and then felt magic being cast a little to her right. When it was finished she turned her head.

There was a pitcher of water and a plate with an apple, some bread and some cheese. Dawn stared at the items as if she'd never seen anything like it in her entire life. She then turned to stare at the boy, but he was already leaving.

Dawn looked back to the food. Was this supposed to be an apology? She snorted. Yeah, right, probably just didn't want the 'prisoner' to starve to death. She reached for the pitcher and took a sip, annoyed at how much her hands shook thanks to the spell, but loving the feel of cool water flowing down her throat.

"So. . . wands, huh?" Dawn murmured to herself as she sat back against the wall once again.

* * *

It was only 8:45 am and already the newsroom of _The Telegraph_was bustling with activity. A major disaster happened yesterday and although it made the front page of today's paper, there was lots more to write about it. In the corner, Mathew Swift, the political reporter was humming to himself as he debated which of his contacts to call first. 

It was exactly 8:48 am when the door to the newsroom opened, admitting a tall, beautifully tanned woman with long, curly black hair. She wore a pink blouse and a white skirt that matched the white blazer she carried under her right arm. There was a dark brown purse on her left shoulder that matched her high heeled sandals.

"Ah, hello Connie!" Mathew called, giving her a little wave. "How was your vacation?"

"Hello Mathew," she called back with a warm smile. "It was wonderful; didn't want to come back. Well, until I heard about the explosion, I mean. Isn't that the second one in a week?"

"Yup. A gas explosion is what they're calling it."

She raised an eyebrow. "You don't seem too convinced."

"Well it just seems a bit of a convenient excuse to me. I mean, we've never had any major problems with the city's gas pipes before." He shrugged. "But, then I'm no expert. If the government's calling it a gas explosion then I guess it's a gas explosion. . . until proven otherwise."

The phone on his desk rang and he turned to answer it, effectively ending their conversation.

Connie Price sat down at her desk. She sighed, idly missing her days as a political reporter. She had enjoyed that beat. It was also how she had met Anthony, which had signalled the end of her time writing about the Legislature. He had been the Minister for Transportation at the time and she had felt attracted to him almost instantly. He'd asked her out once and she'd agreed. Two weeks later she'd had to ask her editor to move her to a different beat to avoid conflict of interests.

For some reason, even though they hadn't seen each other in close to two years, she was still monitoring the going-ons of the London police. And he was Prime Minister.

"Oh my, those Italian beaches really agreed with you, didn't they?" Connie's musings were interrupted by the middle-aged business reporter, Melinda Strong.

"It was like a dream, it really was," Connie said, turning to her neighbour. "Felt like a huge weight had been lifted off my shoulders the minute I landed. Two weeks simply wasn't long enough."

"It never is, dear. Well, I'm off to a news conference. Talk to you later!"

"Bye!"

Connie turned her computer on and went to grab a cup of coffee from the cafeteria downstairs. When she came back up, everything was loaded. So she sat down to the dreaded task of sifting through two weeks worth of e-mails.

Most of her e-mails were fairly standard, but one in particular caught her attention. It was from her cousin's mobile. It confused her, so she clicked on it. The message was simple: 'no joke'. There were also some pictures, which loaded much slower.

They finished loading. Connie stared. There were three pictures, all taken from a street Connie recognized as being in the financial district. She checked the date and her eyes widened.

"What the bloody fuck is this?" she whispered, staring at five figures draped in black robes, all wearing white masks.

* * *

"All right now, everybody smile!" 

Harry grinned widely at the camera, trying hard not to blink. There was a flash of light and spots of light began to dance in front of Harry's eyes. He blinked a few times, until he could once more see Mr. Weasley winding up the camera in his hands before bringing it up again.

"Okay, once more for prosperity," he called. The smile on his face was momentarily replaced by a frown as he lowered the camera in order to glare at something behind Harry. "Fred! George! Remove those ears immediately!"

Harry turned his head around. One of the twins was standing directly behind him, holding a headband with a pair of large bat ears growing out of it. The red head smiled at him innocently. Harry glared and then turned back to face the camera.

It took another 20 minutes before both Weasley parents were convinced they had enough pictures. Finally, Harry was able to grab a Butterbeer and relax. Ron and Hermione joined him - Ron with his forth piece of Harry's birthday cake. Harry looked around at the collection of people gathered in the Weasley's back yard. Most of them were either members of the Weasley family, or in the Order of the Phoenix. Seeing so many people gathered together to celebrate his birthday, Harry couldn't help the warm feeling in his chest, or the grin that spread across his face.

"You know Ron, if it wasn't for your parents, I think I likely would've completely forgotten my birthday this year," he commented.

Ron snorted. "Don't worry, mate, mum'd never forget you."

"Yes, but it's just. . . I still can't get over the fact that someone's gone to all this trouble just for me."

"Oh, it was no trouble, dear," said a warm voice from behind him. Harry turned to Mrs. Weasley, his smile growing even wider.

"Mrs. Weasley - er, I mean, Molly - thank you very much for the party. It was wonderful."

"You're very welcome, Harry."

Mrs. Weasley closed the distance between them and swept Harry up into a big, warm hug. It surprised Harry at first, but soon his arms came up to return the hug, relishing the feeling of being hugged by a mother. Even if it wasn't his own mother.

They separated and the Weasley matriarch hurried off to make sure there were still plenty of refreshments to go around (and to make sure neither one of her adorable twin sons had done anything to said refreshments). That was when Ginny approached him.

"Um, Harry?" she asked, a bit nervously. Harry gulped.

"Ginny, hello," he said, still feeling a bit emotional after the hug. At the moment he wanted to do nothing less than to kiss Ginny and hold her close. But that would be unfair to both of them. "Um, th-thank you for the gift. I really like it!"

He smiled at her and Ginny's eyes lit up.

"Really? I'm so glad. The moment I saw it, I knew it was perfect."

"What did you get him?" Ron asked.

"I can't remember either," said Hermione.

Harry grinned and pulled an amulet out from under his shirt. He was completely oblivious to the delight that lit in his former girlfriend's eyes when she saw he was already wearing it, as he showed it to his friends.

"Oh my, it's beautiful!" Hermione squealed.

"Jewellery?" Ron asked, not looking quite so sure about the gift. Ginny rolled her eyes at him.

"It's not just 'jewellery'," she said. "It's a protective amulet. It's supposed to protect the wearer against malicious spirits and charms."

"I wonder if it actually works. . ." Hermione took it in her hand as she examined it more thoroughly.

"Well, it certainly can't hurt to wear it, right?" Harry said and then smiled at Ginny. "Thanks Gin."

"I figured if you won't let me help you with the actual fighting, then the least I can do is help make sure you're a bit safer."

That made the Trio pause. They all turned to her. She was smiling, but now they could all see the cracks.

"Ginny," Harry began, "you know I just want you to-"

"I know. And it makes me happy to know you care about me that much, honestly it does, but that doesn't mean I'm not going to worry."

They stared at her, until Ginny couldn't stand it anymore. She looked away and stared into the distance, at the tree tops.

"Things are only going to get more dangerous, aren't they?" she finally said quietly.

"Probably," Harry answered just as quietly.

He took a step towards her, wishing there was something he could do to erase the sadness from her eyes. He reached out to touch her, but stopped himself, clenching his fist as he brought it back to his side. Suddenly, he wished he really was a hero, that he was strong enough to hunt down Voldemort, destroy him and be home in time for dinner. Strong enough to chase that sadness out of her eyes.

"She said you were in danger," Ginny whispered.

Harry's head snapped up. "What?"

Ginny's eyes widened and she clasped a hand over her mouth.

"Someone said Harry was in danger?!" Ron demanded. "Who?"

"N-no one." the redhead looked at her brother and his friends and sighed. They'd never believe her. "Just someone I met in Diagon Alley. She was really strange and probably half-mad, but for some reason I just can't stop thinking about what she said."

Harry grabbed her by the shoulders and turned her to face him. His eyes were serious.

"Tell me what happened," he said.

* * *

Xander yawned for the forth time in two minutes. 

He brought his right hand up to rub his good eyes awake and pushed himself off the red car he was leaning against. Then he stretched. And yawned again. In the distance, he heard a car horn go off. Overhead, a plane flew by. Everything else disappeared into the steady drone of noise that was a normal part of Gatwick airport since Xander was simply too tired to bother separating each into their own separate categories of noise.

His cellphone rang. With a swiftness someone carrying such large bags under their eyes should not posses, his right hand dived into his jacket pocket and flipped the phone open even as he pulled it out.

"Yeah?" he said, a light of anticipation in his eyes. The light disappeared several seconds later.

"No, she's not here yet," he answered, before yawning. "But her plane came in on time, so it shouldn't be much longer. Anything new?"

He listened for a while and then sighed.

"Okay, I see. . .yeah, I'll let her know." He looked towards the glass doors again and his eyes lit up. "Speaking of which, looks like the Buffster has landed. . . Yeah, later."

He closed the phone and slipped it back into his pocket. With his other hand he reached into the car through an open front window and popped the trunk. No sooner had he stepped away from the vehicle, he was assaulted by the smell of Italian leather and a mass of strawberry-scented blond hair. He hugged his friend back as hard as he could.

"Hey Buff," he greeted in as a cheerful a voice as he could muster.

"Hey," Buffy Summers answered with a wide smile after they separated. "How's my Xander-shaped friend?"

"Tired," he answered and yawned as if to demonstrate that point.

Buffy chuckled. She was wearing a mustard yellow leather jacket and dark jeans that disappeared into mustard yellow boots that reached mid-calf. As usual, she looked like a carefree young woman, whose only worry was where she should go to get her nails done.

"I don't suppose you've found her and this has all been a colossal misunderstanding and I can therefore spend the next week teasing my little sister and shopping 'till I can shop no more?" she asked hopefully.

Xander's smile disappeared. "Wish I could, but no sign of her. Molterd, the baker, remembers her leaving and no one's seen her since. I just talked to Faith. She and a few of the newbies have been hittin' the demon bars, but so far they've got nothing. Well, nothing that's seemed helpful anyway."

"Anything non-helpful?"

"Seems someone's put out a call for vamp volunteers, so there's more of them than ever in London. Faith says she's heard rumours about a vampire army and some other weird demons she's never heard of. Plus, there's that prophecy we've spend the past two weeks trying to crack-"

"Whoa, hold the presses! Prophecy? What prophecy and is Dawn involved?"

"Okay, remember when I said we were 'trying to crack it'? We have no idea what it's about. Except for the part where the world's gonna end in three days."

"Three days, huh? Sounds like one hell of a party."

"Probably."

Buffy sighed. "Guess it was too much to ask that for once there really was a simple, logical explanation that didn't involve mortal danger."

Xander chuckled. Buffy closed her eyes and took a deep breath, feeling the breeze as it blew through her hair. Xander watched her, waiting patiently.

She opened her eyes. Her smile was gone and suddenly she was a completely different person. There was a hard, determined look in her eyes. This was the warrior most people tended to overlook when they first met the petite blonde. The Slayer.

"Okay, let's go."

As they drove away from the airport, Xander couldn't help thinking the real fight started now.

* * *

Ginny finished her story and bit her bottom lip, watching for their reactions. To say she was surprised by them would be an understatement. She had expected speculation, shock, or perhaps even outright disbelief. What she hadn't expected was for Harry to turn to Hermione with a smug look and say: "There, I told you shouldn't dismiss her just 'cause she seemed a mite strange!" 

"A mite strange, mate?" Ron said. "She sounds completely bonkers!"

"And we still haven't discounted the possibility that she's a Death Eater," said Hermione.

"Hang on!" Ginny interrupted them, by not completely confused. "What are you three talking about?!"

The trio looked at each other, uncertainly. Ginny glared at them.

"Come on, out with it!"

"I met her," said Harry.

"Who? What?"

"Phythia. I met her in Hogsmeade last Saturday and she said something weird to me too." Ginny's eyes widened.

"Yes, but you seem to think she told you some sort of prophecy," said Hermione.

"Prophecy. . .?" Suddenly, Ginny started feeling dizzy and light-headed, as if a fog was suddenly moving across her mind.

_"Seven there were, five remain, and time is running short._

_When the Snake grows wings, it will be too late,_

_With wings to see and wings to soar, _

_his might will be too great._

_But with this might, his eyes go blind, _

_he cannot see the stars._

_As his will be done, the end will come,_

_of what in seven days created was."_

As suddenly as it had rolled in, the fog around her mind began to lift. Ginny blinked the last hints of dizziness away. When it finally cleared completely, she looked up and saw Harry, Ron and Hermione staring at her with something between shock and wonder.

"How-where did you hear that?" Harry blurted out.

"What the bloody hell WAS that?" Ron exclaimed.

Hermione just looked at her thoughtfully, eyes narrowed in speculation and shining in a way Ginny recognized, since they always got that light whenever the girl was presented with a particularly challenging puzzle.

"Huh?" Ginny looked confused.

"What you just said," Harry said, with a bit more gentleness this time. "Seven there were and five remain and time is running short. . . " Harry paused for a moment. Then he groaned. "Oh for Merlin's - now I remember this one word for word too!"

"But, that's what Phythia told me, just before she disappeared!" Ginny exclaimed, eyes wide in amazement.

"Wait, you mean you didn't even realize you were saying it?" Hermione asked her.

Ginny blinked and then shook her head.

"No, my head seemed to get fuzzy all of a sudden and then when it cleared you three were staring at me."

"Hmm. . ."

"I guess Phythia really wanted me to get the message," Harry muttered under his breath. Then he must've noticed the fear in Ginny's eyes, because his next words were out loud. "But don't worry Gin, I don't know if it really means anything, but somehow she didn't feel evil to me. Just, odd."

Ginny chuckled.

"Yeah, utterly mad and definitely creepy, but no, you're right, she didn't seem like she wanted to hurt me." Ginny paused and considered something. "Mind you, her going on about how you were going to die didn't really make me like her very much."

"Maybe she's related to Trelwany," Ron suggested with a shrug.

The four of them laughed, the tension around them breaking like thin ice.

"God, I hope not," Harry said.

Hermione sighed.

"Well, I guess I'll have to take another look at these, um, prophesies," she said.

"'s odd, though," Ron suddenly said thoughtfully. "I mean, who is she? And why is she trying to help us? Why not go to the Ministry or the Order?"

"Because Harry's The Chosen One, of course," Hermione said sarcastically.

"No, I'm not," said Harry, looking as though he'd just realized something. "She specifically said I'm not The Chosen One. Something about not 'fitting the bill' or whatever."

"The Wizarding Champion," Ginny suddenly said. She wasn't looking at anything in particular, almost as if she hadn't quite meant to say it out loud.

"Huh?" Ron asked and Ginny started.

"Oh, that's what she called Harry. And come to think of it, I don't think she even called Harry by his name even once."

"No, you're right," Harry added. "She called me a whole lot of different things, but never just 'Harry' or even 'Potter'. In fact, I don't even think she called me The-Boy-Who-Lived."

"She wouldn't call you The-Boy-Who-Lived if she wasn't a wizard, now would she?"

The other three blinked and then as one turned to stare at Hermione. The bushy-haired girl shrugged.

"Look, it may not be the most elegant explanation, but just because she has some sort of magical abilities, doesn't mean she's a wizard. Centaurs can predict the future too and House Elves have some pretty impressive magical powers without using wands like we do."

"Hermione, are you saying she might not be human?" Ron asked.

"We don't know enough about her abilities or her to be certain of anything, so at this point I'd like to consider all possibilities open."

"Well, she did have this unearthly feel to her. .. " Harry admitted.

"Wouldn't surprise me, to be honest," Ginny agreed.

Ron sighed.

"But we are still going to the orphanage tomorrow, right?" he asked.

"Of course," Hermione answered.

Ginny frowned in confusion. "Orphanage?"

The Golden Trip froze. Ron cringed.

"Um, never mind Gin, forget I said anything," he said quickly.

"What do you mean, never mind?!"

"Ginny, I'm sorry, but we really can't tell you," Harry said with a sad smile. "It's just one of those things, you know. We can't tell anyone what we're doing because they might try to stop us and we can't let them. But, um, don't worry, it's not really that dangerous. We're just doing some research, honest."

Ginny's narrowed eyes met Harry's and locked with them until the boy visibly gulped. Then Ginny took a step towards him and poked him hard in the chest with her right index finger.

"I'll let you go for now, but don't you dare die on me, Harry James Potter."

Harry smiled.

"I won't."

"You'd better not."

Without another word or glance to anyone, Ginny turned around and walked away from them until she disappeared inside the house. The three of them watched her go.

"Harry, mate, you've got lots of talent," Ron said. "But you're a crap lair."

* * *

Once again, Connie Price found herself staring at the now-familiar photos on her computer screen. By all rights, she should've dismissed it as a silly, immature prank. And perhaps, if it had been someone other than her cousin, someone with more of an imagination, she may have rolled her eyes and ignored it. But she couldn't. The puzzle these images presented her with was too enticing; there were too many questions and almost no answers. 

It was six o'clock now. Her first day back after a two-week vacation was over. Tomorrow's edition would feature two stories written by her about the aftermath of yesterday's disaster - she had a hard time referring to it as an explosion, because Mathew Swift was right, she'd seen explosions before and something about this one just felt wrong .

In the middle of all that, she'd managed to get a hold of her cousin.

"You that excited to be back?"

Connie jumped and turned her head to smile at Irving Whiteshad, her editor.

"Oh, hello Mr. Whiteshad," she said. "And no, not really. Just got myself a puzzle I can't figure out."

"Oh?"

"Here, look at this." She pointed at the photos on the screen. "They were in my inbox when I arrived. If the address is accurate, it was sent from my cousin's mobile."

Mr. Whiteshad frowned as he squinted at the monitor.

"Isn't that-?"

"Look at the date and time they were sent."

He did and his eyes widened. Connie picked up one of the newspapers laying on her desk and brought it up for him to see.

"July 27th, at 9:23 in the morning. That's four minutes before the gas piping was said to have exploded in that exact spot."

She brought the picture in the paper up to the screen to compare the two. The photos from the mobile were slightly blurry, but it was undoubtedly the same building in the background.

"Well fuck." There was a pause. "Did you talk to your cousin?"

"Yes. But, that's the oddest part of all. He said he was there, but he doesn't even remember sending me an e-mail, let alone seeing these masked men."

"Could it be a prank? I mean, just because he sent them then, doesn't mean he actually took them then."

"If it were anyone else, I might. But, Todd's about as imaginative as a blank piece of paper. Also, there was the way he talked about the explosion that has me unsettled. And the witnesses of yesterday's one as well. I've talked to a lot of disaster victims, whether car crashes, hurricanes or terrorist attacks and there's always one thing they have in common: no matter how many people you talk to, they'll all have a slightly different story."

"Of course, everyone remembers things differently."

"That's the thing, these people didn't. The way they told it was different, but, in the end, every single one of them told the exact same story. I didn't realize it until I'd talked to Todd and then read this article. I felt as though I was reading his words, yet when I talked to Carol, she said she remembered seeing him there and did talk to him, but ended up finding someone better as the focus for the story."

She looked to the editor, only to find him deep in thought. Finally, he looked back to her with a serious expression and an excited glint in his eye.

"I'll give you two days." Connie blinked. "Two days to find out what information you can, to confirm whether or not this is in fact a valid story or a prank. Because, if this is true, if these so-called explosions aren't actually accidents and the people who witness the truth are somehow having their memories tampered with using some sort of new technology from God-knows-where-" His face broke out in a wide grin. "-then this could be the story of the decade! The century even!"

Connie grinned back, feeling a familiar fire light within her as well.

* * *

Well, there's that chapter done. I'm really sorry about the delay on it, but I hope you enjoyed it anyway. The next one's just about done, so it should be out within the next week or so. In the meantime, please review! 

Author's Notes:

**A Call to Arms** - yes, I stole the chapter title from Ernest Hemmingway. It seemed to fit with the theme of this chapter.

**Shop sign** - Just wanted to point out that an old English term for stag is hart. Remember the books the Fang Gang used to get themselves back from Pylea?

**"We shall not flag or fail. . . " **- Winston Churchill in a speech to the House of Commons on June 4th, 1940. My thanks to www. winston churchill .com for the quote.

**Photos - **If you go back to chapter 5, where the explosion happened, you'll find that Vi sees a small flash of light just before she jumps behind a car to avoid a spell and then sees a guy with a cell phone. Tonks notices him later as well when she sees an auror walking up to him to obliviate him.

**Gatwick** - London has three airports: Heathrow, Gatwick and Stansted. Like Heathrow, Gatwick is also an international airport, but much smaller. Since Buffy's travelling from Italy, it just kinda made sense to me she'd land at Gatwick.

I think I've just decided to include cameos from as many Buffy-verse characters as I possibly can (within reason, of course). I already had a few planned before, but now I'm really liking the idea. Look for one in the next chapter too!


	8. Chapter 8

**My thanks to Gwen and LadySunflower for betaing this chapter and to everyone who reviewed the last one. **

* * *

**Prophecy of the Four**

Chapter 8 - First Steps

"Are we there yet?" 

"Ronald Weasley, for the fiftieth bloody time, does it _look_ like we're in London?!"

A stunned silence followed.

"H-Hermione, you swore!" Ron stared, wide-eyed, at the bushy-haired girl, who merely glared back at him.

Harry hid his smile behind his hand. Taking Muggle buses early in the morning apparently turned Ron into a whiney five-year-old. And Hermione, it turned out, had absolutely zero patience for whiney five-year-olds. It meant he got no sleep during the trip from Scotland to London, but at least it kept him entertained.

"It's just that it's so cramped in 'ere. There's no leg room at all!"

"Ron, this isn't the TARDIS! It's exactly the same size on the inside as it looks from the outside."

"Huh? TARDIS? What's that? Is it some sort of strange Muggle device?"

"Nevermind, Ron." Hermione sighed, clearly wishing she could take back that remark. She looked at her watch. Ron pouted and then his eyes lit up.

"Harry, do you know what a TARDIS is?"

"Umm, well, yes, I suppose so," Harry answered.

"Then what is it? Does it use that elk-trity thing?"

"Well, no, I don't think so- "

"Harry, don't even try," Hermione interrupted him. "Ron, just forget it. There is no such thing as a TARDIS; it's just a part of a story."

"Oh."

There were 15 and a half minutes of silence. Harry was almost beginning to doze off.

"Gah, I can't believe how long it's taking us to get there!" Ron whined. "I wish we could've just taken the Knight Bus."

"Ron, you know we couldn't," Hermione said, not looking up from her Greek Mythology tome.

"Yeah, yeah, I know. You-Know-Who's spies and what-not."

"And the ministry."

"And the ministry."

"Good, I'm glad you remembered."

Harry sighed and looked out the window at the passing scenery. He really wished he owned a Discman or an MP3 player or something else he could use to drown out his friend's banter.

* * *

Dawn sighed. She was bored. Excruciatingly, mind-numbingly bored. 

Normally, the evil villains - or at least the more energetic of the minions - kept her busy with their posturing and threatening, so she didn't get the chance to become truly bored. Frightened, yes. But definitely not bored. Being treated like a regular, ordinary prisoner, who was dumped in a dungeon and forgotten, was definitely a new and thoroughly unwanted experience for her.

At least the blond boy she could get a rise out of (thankfully, he had yet to pull his wand out on her again). She even managed to get some slightly useful information out of him.

_"So, you mentioned some sort of Dark Lord before; is that, like, your boss?" Dawn asked the boy._

_The boy scowled. "The Dark Lord is my master. He's the most powerful dark wizard in the world."_

_Dawn bit her tongue. Mentioning Willow might not be the wisest move right now. So long as they thought she and any possible friends of hers were harmless, the better chance they'd have to catch the wizards by surprise and bust her out of here._

_"And does this Dark Lord of yours have a name?"_

_"Of course he does! We just don't speak it."_

_Dawn blinked. "Huh? Why? Is it ridiculously long and difficult to pronounce?"_

_"No! Because he's the most powerful dark wizard ever born!"_

_"Huh? Wait? Does that mean that everyone calls him just 'the Dark Lord'?"_

_"Well, we do. The rest of the Wizarding World refers to him as either You-Know-Who or He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named."_

_"Seriously? They, like, go up to him and say, 'Yo, You-Know-Who, how's it hangin'?'"_

_His eyes narrowed at her. He pushed himself away from the wall he'd been leaning against with a huff._

_"Don't strain your mind, Muggle," he spat. "I'm sure you'll understand if you're ever unfortunate enough to meet him."_

_Dawn giggled as quietly as she could, while listening to his footsteps retreat down the corridor._

However, his guard shift had ended two hours ago and he was replaced by Tweedle dee and Tweedle dum. The two boys looked to be about the same age as the blond, but twice as wide with half the intelligence. They were also silent as rocks and every bit as interesting. Dawn had tried to start a conversation with them, but the most she'd gotten out of them was a few undistinguished grunts. So, she gave up.

"Buffy'd better get her ass here soon," she said quietly after the two had wandered further down the corridor.

Logically, she knew that was impossible. Buffy was in Italy, which meant that even had she left soon after Dawn's capture, she'd only just be arriving in London. And Dawn was pretty sure wherever this dungeon was, it wasn't in London. The air felt different. Then again, that could just be the magic around her. Not even on the Hellmouth had the air felt so utterly seeped in magic, dark or otherwise. It was as if the entire place had been built with it.

Dawn sighed. She idly wondered if all this magic would have any effect on her own skills. She doubted anyone would notice if she added a bit of her own to the mix - not that her magic powers were all that impressive in the first place. She moved quietly to the limits of her chains and peered out into the corridor to see if the Tweedle brothers were nearby. Luckily, she didn't see them.

Satisfied, she sat cross-legged, straightened her back and closed her eyes. She took a deep breath and concentrated. First, she concentrated on her breathing, feeling the air enter her body and then leave. Then, on her heartbeat and the blood flowing through her veins, until she could actually feel the air outside her body touching her skin. She followed those sensations, reached beyond them, to the very core of her being, until she found a familiar warmth.

She touched it and suddenly, it was like a dam had broken.

Dawn gasped as the warmth rushed into every vein, every nerve, every pore of her body. It began to burn as it raged within her like the rapids on a fast-flowing river. She almost panicked, but took a deep breath and calmed her instincts, remembering Willow's words. 'Don't let it overwhelm you, it's a reflection of your own soul. If your soul is calm, then your power will be too,' she'd told her once.

And so, the raging river slowly became a steady stream.

Dawn opened her eyes.

"Wow," she whispered in awe.

Everything around her looked different. She'd done this meditation exercise before, and it always amazed her how much more she could see afterwards - auras and magical signatures were always so much clearer. But never had the difference been so drastic. Not only could she the auras of everything in her cell (not that she had needed to know there were several somethings crawling in the back corner), but also larger auras outside the walls. She could see other prisoners around her and the Tweedle brothers patrolling further down the corridor. She could feel the fear, pain and sadness of the others - it was a tangible entity that seemed to hold onto her, to crawl into her mind, calling for her to acknowledge it.

Dawn pulled back, panting heavily as she tried to bring her concentration back into her own cell. Colours swirled before her eyes, making her head hurt. She closed her eyes. Her attention no longer overwhelmed by the colours, she could finally feel the magic now.

It felt dark, but not like Willow's had been. There had been something more primal in the magic Willow had managed to tap into. This magic felt more controlled, like it had a purpose. Or perhaps it simply wasn't powerful enough to lash out against its wielders.

Her breathing even again, Dawn opened her eyes. The swirling colours didn't seem quite so bright anymore and she scanned her cell for something to practice on, since she obviously didn't have a pencil handy. In the corner beside her, the wall had begun to crumble - or perhaps been damaged by a spell. There was a rather large chunk of stone laying on the ground.

Dawn concentrated on it, reaching out with her mind the way Willow had taught her. She pictured the warmth in her veins turning into an arm. She imagined it reaching out and grasping the stone, feeling its cold, hard form. Then she pictured it lifting the stone. Only a little bit at first and then higher.

It took a few moments for Dawn to notice she was sweating, a few more for her to realize the stone actually was floating about a metre above the ground.

Her eyes widened in surprise, then excitement.

That was when her concentration snapped and the stone fell to the ground with a loud thud. Footsteps echoed in the hallway and suddenly her to prison guards were staring into her cell.

"What was that?" one of them demanded gruffly.

"Um, ehe, sorry guys," Dawn sheepishly. "It was just. . . uh, a rat. There was this rat, so I threw a rock at it to chase it away."

One of the boys made a face and shivered in disgust. Apparently, he didn't like rats either.

"Uh, okay," said the other and they left.

Dawn sighed in relief and silently thanked the Hellmouth for providing her with ample practice in making up semi-believable lies. And the two oafs for having the combined intelligence of a brick wall.

She looked back to the rock and smiled.

* * *

Angela carefully closed the door to the study. She turned and walked down the hallway, feeling the cold stone through the thin foot covers she wore and doing her best to ignore the stares from the Malfoy paintings. They weren't loud and never spoke to her, but they always stared. She thought it was their way of silently making her aware she wasn't welcomed here amongst them, despite being tolerated by the masters of the manor. 

Angela felt 'it' as she was passing the painting of Marcus Lucius Malfoy II. She froze, eyes wide and unblinking.

She wasn't sure what she was feeling, or how she recognized it, but it was familiar. A gentle brush upon her mind that seemed to whisper of things she knew - if only she would remember. Like an oncoming train, Angela felt it grow louder and stronger, until a roaring thunder in her head announced its arrival. And just as she could taste that the Truth was so close it was a veritable hurricane in her mind, it stopped.

Angela nearly sobbed with both relief and frustration.

It may have been several minutes - or perhaps hours - later that Angela heard someone beside her clear their throat. She blinked in surprise as she looked up, realizing at the same time that she was kneeling on the floor. Marcus Lucius Malfoy II was giving her a stern glare.

Angela blushed lightly and quickly stood up.

"My apologies," she muttered and hurried down the hall.

Meanwhile, inside the study, Constantine LeBeau told the Dark Lord what he had learnt during his trip into the forgotten back streets of Knockaburn Alley. The Dark Lord listened with a neutral look on his face that revealed none of his thoughts. At the end of his tale, Constantine pushed forward the leather sack he'd brought with him.

"The hag did give me this, my Lord," he said. "It is a set of books she said might interest you. I took the liberty of leafing through the first one. I'm afraid my Latin is quite bad, however, it does seem to speak of demons and summonings of some sort. . ."

He trailed off, hoping the Dark Lord would accept this much and not ask for more details. In truth, his Latin wasn't merely bad, it was atrocious. He hadn't even realized how bad it was until he'd started reading the books.

The Dark Lord pointed his wand at the sack and levitated it to the ground next to his chair. He took one of the books out. The room was silent as he looked it over. He opened it and stared at the first page for a moment, before frowning.

"This isn't Latin," he declared. Constantine's head shot up.

"My Lord?"

"It is very close, like a first or second cousin, but not actual Latin." He paused to sniff the pages. "Interesting. It seems to be written in blood."

He placed the leather-bound book down on the coffee table.

"Very well, you have done well, Mister LeBeau. It is a pity about the Gem of Amara, but there is nothing to be done. I shall take a look at these books and see whether the hag was right."

He motioned to the masked Death Eater standing to his left.

"You may send owls to those of my servants still searching for the Gem and tell them to return. And Mister LeBeau, go back to the hag. I am curious to know her thoughts on the legendary weapon in the Hogwarts Lake."

"But, my Lord, that is just a story!" the Death Eater beside the Dark Lord protested. "Not eve Salazar Slytherin managed to find any-"

"I am well aware of that! However, the Gem of Amara was also thought to be a mere myth."

"I will ask her about it, my Lord," Constantine said.

"Excellent. You are all dismissed."

The assembled Death Eaters bowed and left. Once alone, the Dark Lord took a sip of red wine and picked up the book from the coffee table. His eyes shone with excitement.

* * *

It took most of the day, but finally Harry, Ron and Hermione stood before their destination. It was as Harry remembered it looking from Professor Dumbledore's memory: a dull, square building at the back of a bare courtyard all surrounded by high railings. The swing set on left looked new, though the paint was already chipped. Beside the gate entrance was a bronze plaque beside the door that read 'Sacred Heart Orphanage'. Across the street, there was a small church that looked just as dilapidated as the buildings around it. 

They found the gate was unlocked, so they walked into the courtyard and made their way to the main building.

"Well, go on, Harry," said Hermione. "Ring the bell."

Harry gulped. Then he slowly reached out and pushed the doorbell. A loud buzzing sound was heard from the other side of the door. They waited.

"M-maybe they didn't hear?" Ron suggested after a while.

"Yeah, I should try again," Harry said and was about to push the button again when he heard sounds of rustling from the other side. Through the thick, frosted glass panels on the door, he could see the vague shape of a person on the other side.

Finally, the door opened a crack and an eye looked out at them.

"Yes? Can I help you?" came the sweet, yet slightly shaky voice of an elderly woman.

"Oh, hello, my name is Harry uh, these are my friends Ron and Hermione and we, um would just like to know if, well-"

"We're working on a school project," Hermione interrupted. "We're supposed to research the life of a former student of our school and write a report about their life. Our subject is a man named Tom Riddle. According to our research he grew up here. We were wondering if you could help us."

The boys nodded in agreement.

"Please, ma'am, we'd really appreciate it," Harry added.

There was a pause during which the pale green eye seemed to search the three of them for any sort of dishonestly. Hermione bit her lip, a bit nervous now that they were actually standing here. Their backstory had seemed good when they were sitting around a table inside the Hogwarts library. Harry could hear his heart beating frantically in his chest as he silently implored the woman to believe them. He didn't want to use any sort of forceful magic on her, especially since he'd never done any memory charms before. Ron tried his best not to fidget. He just wanted to get the information they needed and leave - preferably with a Horcrux. He'd had enough of the Muggle world with its cramped buses, strange flashing lights and loud noises.

The door closed and the trio heard the sound of a chain rattling. Then the door opened again, this time all the way. In the doorway stood a small woman, who must've been at least eighty, with pure white hair tied back into a bun. She wore a gray cardigan decorated with a cat broach over her heart and a dainty gold cross around her neck. Her long, straight skirt was baby pink and matched her pink house slippers.

"Well, come on in then," she said with a gentle smile. "You're in luck. The children are away on a trip to the sea, so I have the time to help you."

"Thank you very much," Harry said.

"Oh, no problem, dear."

The inside of the house smelt of flowers and freshly baked cookies.

They followed the old woman through a large foyer, noting the partially-opened double doors to their left. Harry paused to peer in. There were two large tables, each with a simple, bronze chandelier hanging above it - a dining room. Curiosity satisfied, he continued on with the others as they were led past a large staircase and down a short, dark hallway.

At the end of the hallway, Harry saw sunlight coming in through a screen door, which must've led into the garden. However, the woman led them through a small door on the left, which - it turned out - led into the kitchen. It wasn't a huge kitchen, but it had a stove with eight burners and a set of double convection ovens standing next to it. The centre of the room was a four-metre long island of solid wood that was covered in scratches and unintended grooves and faded splotches of various colour. Apart from the marks of use, the kitchen was meticulously clean. Ron stared in fascination at the sparkling appliances.

"Sit down, dears," the old woman said, motioning to a round, wooden table in the back corner of the room. "I'll just make us some tea."

Harry, Ron and Hermione sat down as she picked up a pink flowery kettle and poured plenty of water into it. She set it onto the stove and walked over to the trio. She smiled warmly at them.

"I'm Liza Grant, by the way, now what did you say your names were again?" she said.

"I'm Harry, this is Ron and Hermione," Harry answered.

"Such nice names. . . my late brother's name was Harry. Well, Harold really, but we all called him Harry."

The three wizards looked at each other.

"Um, yes, well. . ." Harry began.

"Anyway, about our project," Hermione interjected. "We just wanted to know if it would be possibly to look around or maybe go through some of your old records to see if we can confirm that Tomas Riddle did in fact live here."

"Hmm, Tom Riddle, now that's a name I haven't heard in years. Always did wonder what happened to him."

Harry's eyes widened and he exchanged excited looks with his friends.

"You knew him?" he asked, not wanting to believe their luck.

"Oh yes, dear. My parents died in a railway accident when I was eight. Tom was ten at the time, I believe. I remember him very well; he was the first person I met when I arrived here. Had a mop of black hair and looked just a bit mean. Reminded me of my elder brother, Cedric, who'd died with my parents. I think I always had a sort of soft spot for Tom because of it, even though I never really did like him very much."

Suddenly, a shrill whistle sounded from the stove. Mrs. Grant stood up and went to prepare the tea. Ron turned to Harry.

"Bloody hell, now this is lucky!" he whispered.

"I know!" Harry whispered back. "What were the odds we'd find someone who actually knew Tom Riddle!"

The boys turned to Hermione, only to find she already had her notebook out and half a page of notes written. Harry heard the sound of clinking china and turned to the counter, where Mrs. Grant had set a teapot, four cups and a plate of biscuits onto a large platter. He then watched, amazed, by the frail-looking woman as she lifted the piled tray and slowly carried it to the table, even if it did shake a little in her hands. She placed it onto the centre of the table and served it. Once that was done and each of the children had taken a freshly-baked biscuit, she sat down and took a sip of her own tea.

"Now then, what exactly was it you wanted to know?" she asked.

"Well, anything really," Hermione answered. "What did he do, did he have any friends, favourite places, or did anything unusual happen while he was here...?"

Mrs. Grant took another sip of tea as she mulled over her answer.

"Well, Tom himself was a rather unusual boy. Definitely not nice - not outwardly mean - but certainly not nice. At least to me he was never truly mean. A lot of the other children really disliked him, but then again, he never was one to mingle with others. Preferred to sit alone and read. And then, of course, he started going to his 'special school' for most of the year. Made a lot of us jealous with that, he did. Come to think of it, I never did find out what kind of school it was. . ."

"Well, it's sort of a school for gifted children," Hermione answered with only a slight pause.

The woman laughed.

"That sounds like that one from one of the shows some of the boys here like to watch; I believe it's called _X-men _or something like that."

Hermione froze for a moment, her eyes widening slightly, before she laughed as well (although a bit nervously).

"Oh, ehe, that's interesting," she said, before clearing her throat. "It's really more of a technical school with a modified curriculum."

Mrs. Grant waved her off.

"Oh, it's not like it matters. Tom was a very smart boy; it didn't really come as much of a surprise that he got invited to attend some sort of special school. It was the superior attitude he acquired while there that annoyed us. Not that his attitude stopped quite a few of the girls from falling for him. There was Dorothy Smyth, poor thing, she was so distraught when he turned her down, she killed herself."

"Killed herself?" Harry asked, trying his best to sound shocked as opposed to excited.

"Well, it was declared an accident, but of course the gossip mill around here said it had to be suicide." Mrs. Grant then noticed the trio had empty cups in front of them. "Oh, would you like some more tea? Or, even better, shall I give you a tour of the place?"

"Oh, yes, thank you, that would be wonderful," Harry quickly agreed.

"Excellent!"

Mrs. Grant got up from her seat and left the kitchen. Harry, Ron and Hermione followed, hoping that something in this old house would give them a clue.

* * *

Buffy was rather disappointed with the reception - or lack there of - she received. The bar door swung shut and the few hidden faces that had looked up when she entered turned back to the more fascinating liquid in front of them. Most of the patrons looked almost human since their faces were hidden beneath hats and high-collared coats. The jazz music playing in the background crackled a bit. 

"Gee, all sorts of excitement to be had here," Buffy muttered to herself. She sighed and walked over to the bar.

"Well, well, we sure don't get many of your kind 'round 'ere," the short female demon behind the bar commented. This one took no steps to hide the fact she wasn't human. She wore a short denim skirt and bright pink tank top, which clearly displayed the blue markings weaving their way up her somewhat scaly arms. Her dark hair tied up into two pigtails that fell all the way to her waist.

Buffy stared her for a few moments.

"Huh?" she said, confused. "How'd you know I was the Slayer?"

True, she had been expecting a bit more of a reaction when she entered the bar, but she hadn't _actually_ expected to be recognized. The bartender blinked at her.

"Well, I 'ad been meaning that you're human and all..." Her eyes widened. "Hang on! You-you're the Slayer?!"

That managed to get the other patron's attention. Heads rose to get a second look at the blonde human. The bartender backed away from the counter and reached behind her to where Buffy assumed she had some sort of weapon stashed away. Buffy raised her hands in a placating gesture.

"Woah there, relax. I'm not here to kill anyone." She paused. "Assuming none of you have anything to do with what I'm looking for, I mean."

"Then what exactly is a Slayer doing in a _demon_ bar?" came a voice from the end of the counter. Buffy turned to the speaker. Under his black leather hat she could see pale blue skin and a few strands of green hair. Dark eyes looked at her sceptically.

"I'm looking for info," she shrugged, noticing out of the corner of her eye that the bartender was carefully pulling out a sword. "Best place for that in Sunnydale was always Willy's, so I figured the same might work here."

"Sunnydale?" The demon's eyes widened, a mixture of fear and awe creeping into his eyes. "You're the Hellmouth Slayer?!"

"Um. . . yes?" Buffy wasn't entirely sure she wanted to be recognized as the 'Hellmouth Slayer'. However, if that would help her get them to co-operate, then she might as well go all the way. "I'm Buffy Summers," she said.

"Buffy Summers?"

The entire bar was suddenly swept in a sea of whispers. Buffy heard coins being dropped on wooden tables, chair legs scraping across the floor and hurried steps towards the door. Quick as lightening, her hand slid to her waist and grabbed the knife she had secured there. She spun around and threw it. The demon about to open the door froze as it lodged into the wood, two inches in front of him.

"Okay, so here's the thing," said Buffy as she crossed her arms over her chest. "My little sister's missing; someone's kidnapped her." There was fear in the eyes of the demons standing by the door as she fixed them with the coldest glare she could muster. "I will do anything to get her back. Whoever took her, will die. Anyone who's hurt her will also die. Pass the message on to your friends."

The second she turned back to the bar and the bar door flew open as the demons at the door ran outside. She pulled up a barstool and sat down. She leaned against the counter as she smiled at the bartender.

"So, what can you tell me about that explosion that happened a couple of days ago?" she asked, the cheerfulness in her voice - betrayed by the steel glinting in her eyes.

* * *

Harry quickly came to the conclusion that this was the hardest investigating they'd ever done. Trying to seem only somewhat curious and pretending to be giving everything only a cursory look, while actually taking in every detail, was excruciatingly difficult. Hermione did most of the actual talking, asking Mrs. Grant whatever questions came to mind, while Harry and Ron tried to search as best they could. 

However, now they'd seen pretty much all of the orphanage and Hermione had pages upon pages of random stories about Tom Riddle as a child, but no Horcrux. Not even a clue as to where exactly a Horcrux could be hiding. It was getting impossible to pretend they were only doing a school project.

It was really just a desperate attempt to buy them some extra time that made Harry peer into the shadows at the end of the top floor hallway.

"Where does this lead?" he asked, pointing to the stairwell he discovered.

"Hmm. . ." Mrs. Grant looked over. "Oh, that leads up to the attic, dear. The children sometimes dare each other to go up there." She winked at him. "It's supposed to be haunted."

"Haunted?" Hermione asked, latching on to the bit of information.

"Yes, by the spirit of Dorothy Smyth. This is where she died - fell down the stairs, God rest her soul."

"Dorothy Smyth?" Ron said. "That's the girl you said killed herself over Tom Riddle?"

"Yes, that's the one. She was a few years older than me. A pretty, yet timid thing. Loved to sew. In fact, she used to make doll dresses for all the younger children." She paused and the trio waited with baited breath, hoping their source of information would talk about something more interesting than doll dresses. "Came as quite the surprise to most of us when Tom began to fancy 'er."

Harry had just begun to climb the stairs to get a closer look as she said that. His foot missed the next, making him trip.

"H-he did?" he asked.

"Oh yes, made a lot of the older girls jealous. Tom had grown into quite the handsome lad by then. She was about a year younger, if I remember correctly. They started going together not long after he'd gotten back from his school and lasted for most of the summer. I'd never seen him so charming and Dorothy seemed to blossom under his attention. Then they broke up. She committed suicide about two days before Tom left to go to school."

"But why?" Hermione demanded.

Mrs. Grant smiled down at her.

"Well, officially, it was declared an accident. Tom liked to go up to the attic to read or do his summer schoolwork, and so everyone just sort of decided Dorothy must've gone up to see him one last time before he left to try and convince him not to leave her or something like that. They argued and then she, distraught with grief, wasn't paying attention to where she was going, slipped and fell down the stairs to her death." Here she paused for dramatic effect. "Of course, gossiping girls are horrible creatures and there were many rumours that said she was pregnant and committed suicide to save herself the shame of it all."

"Was Tom Riddle there when it happened?" Hermione asked, a slight frown on her face.

"What, dear?"

"Well, you said she went up to talk to him and they had an argument," Harry explained.

"Oh. Well yes, I suppose he had to have been there then, hadn't he. . .?" Mrs. Grant looked perplexed for a moment. "You know, I can't properly remember."

"Um, may we have a look?" Harry asked.

"What? At the attic?" She laughed. "Why not? It seems to be human nature to be fascinated by ghost stories. And, come to think of it, there may even be some old pictures up there as well."

She walked over to the staircase and motioned the three children to go ahead of her. "Well, go on. My legs aren't as strong as yours; it'll take me a while to climb up."

Ron, Harry and Hermione thanked her and practically ran up the stairs. The doorknob was a bit stiff and the door creaked as Harry pushed it open.

The only light in the attic came from two small, round windows at the far end, one of which was almost completely obscured by boxes. Harry took a few tentative steps in and tripped over something. A moment later, Hermione found the light switch next to the door and the light bulb in the ceiling lit up. Harry blinked a few times and then looked down to see what he'd tripped over. There was an old-fashion, black iron sewing machine sitting on the ground.

"That's rather odd," Hermione commented.

"What's odd?" asked Ron as he came up behind her to look at the strange Muggle contraption.

"Well, the rest of the attic looks cluttered, but fairly tidy. So, why is this sitting in the middle of the floor?"

"Oh dear, not again!" Mrs. Grant exclaimed as she too entered the stuff attic. She sighed. "It's the older children, I'm afraid. They think it's amusing to move that thing all the time. To keep up the story of the haunted attic, of course." She turned to Ron. "Could you please be a dear and put it back over on that shelf?"

"Sure," said Ron. As he began to reach into his jacket pocket, Hermione elbowed him in the side. "Ow, what was. . .?"

His friend gave him a 'look' and then motioned to Mrs. Grant, which only seemed to confuse him more.

"Huh?" He looked at Mrs. Grant and then back at her. Suddenly, his eyes widened. "Oh! Right, um, sorry."

With a sheepish grin, Ron picked up the sewing machine, grunting at the unexpected weight of it. Hermione rolled her eyes.

"So, why a sewing machine?" Harry asked.

"Hmmm. . . well, because Dorothy liked to sew so this is supposed to be her ghost's doing. Of course, she never used a machine like that; she had an old pedal one. The whole story's just a lot of nonsense."

"But there really is a gh- ow!" said Ron and then glared at Hermione for stepping forcefully onto his foot.

"Shut up, Ron," she whispered to him between clenched teeth. Then she smiled sweetly up at Mrs. Grant. "Sorry, he really does enjoy ghost stories."

Ron remained silent, but kept looking between Hermione and a large wooden chest in the corner. It was quite an impressive thing, with a massive bronze lock on the front and beautifully detailed birds carved into the lid. However, what had caught Ron's attention wasn't the chest itself, but rather the translucent girl sitting on top of it. She stared back at him with thinly veiled hostility in her eyes.

Harry saw the old woman notice Ron's confusion. She frowned slightly.

"Is there something the matter, dear?" she asked.

"Um, that's a very beautiful chest, Mrs. Grant," Harry quickly said, hoping to steer the conversation away from Ron. "Do you know where it's from?"

"Chest?" Mrs. Grant looked stunned by the question as she followed Harry's gaze to the chest, staring at it as if it were some strange new creature. She took a few steps towards it.

"You know, I don't ever remember seeing it here before. Must've belonged to someone who came here after I left, I imagine. But you are right, it is lovely. . ."

She knelt beside it and reached out to run her hand along the exquisite craftsmanship. No sooner had she touched it, she pulled back as if she'd been burned. She stood up as fast as her body would allow it.

"Oh my, look at the time!" she exclaimed. "The children will be back soon and I'm sure you'll want another cup of tea before leaving."

Harry, Ron and Hermione stared at her.

"Umm, Mrs. Grant?" Hermione asked.

"Yes, dear?"

"Would you mind if we looked around for a few more minutes?"

"I suppose not. Oh!" she pointed to a cabinet against the far wall. "I believe there are some old photo albums in there. You may be able to find some pictures of Tom. Just make sure you put it all back when you finish."

With that, she began to descend the stairs. Harry waited 'till she was almost at the bottom, before saying anything.

"Well, that was-" he began.

"Odd. Definitely odd," Ron finished.

"It was like she didn't even see the chest until we pointed it out."

"Yeah, and then she just left." Ron shook his head. "Muggles sure are strange. It was just like-"

"-just like the Hogwarts anti-Muggle wards!" Hermione suddenly exclaimed.

"Huh?"

"What?"

"See, if you two had bothered to read _Hogwarts: A History_, you would know. To Muggles, Hogwarts looks like an empty, run-down lot. But just in case someone decides to go investigating there anyway, there are wards put in place."

"I remember Hagrid telling me about those!" said Harry, suddenly understanding what his friend had realized. "The Muggles suddenly remember something urgent they have to do and then leave."

"Oh, right, I knew that," Ron said sheepishly. He frowned. "But aren't those really strong wards? Why would someone use such a strong spell on a chest?"

"They would if there was something important inside," said Hermione.

"Like a Horcrux!" Harry looked excited.

Hermione took her wand out and pointed it at the chest. "Alohomora!"

Nothing happened. Harry walked over and tried to open the chest. It was still locked. Hermione shrugged.

"Didn't think it would be that easy."

Ron took his wand out and cast a spell he'd heard his mother use to unlock the safe at home. There was a flash of light and a few multi-coloured sparks, but it still didn't open. Then Harry tried to simply break it with three different spells, with absolutely no result. It refused to shrink as well.

"Dammit!" he exclaimed. "We can't stay up here for much longer or it'll look suspicious."

"You know what's strange?" Hermione suddenly asked.

"What?" Harry asked with a sigh.

"It's a Muggle chest."

"Huh?" said Ron and Harry in unison.

"Look, it has a Muggle lock and even the workmanship doesn't look like it was made by magic."

"But there are spells on it-" Ron argued.

"Tom Riddle was nothing if not talented; he could've done that himself."

"I suppose. . ."

"Wait," said Harry, look at Hermione with narrowed eyes. "Are you saying we may just need to find the key?"

"Well, if you think about it, it would be rather clever of him: a chest with anti-Muggle wards on it, spelled to be impervious to magic. A Muggle couldn't see it and a wizard would automatically start casting spells."

"And no one would think to look for something as simple as a key," Ron added.

"Which is leaves us with one rather big problem," Harry sighed. "Where in the world did he hide the key?"

The trio were silent for a moment, each deep in thought.

"You don't suppose he hid it in here somewhere?" Ron asked, scanning the room with his eyes.

"So close to the chest?" said Harry, sceptically.

"Well, if he didn't think anyone would figure it out, then he might have," Hermione suggested.

"But it'll take all day to search through all this," Ron whined.

"I realize that, Ron," said Hermione. "I also realize we won't be able to come back here again anytime soon, so we need to find it soon."

Suddenly, a strange wind blew through the attic, startling the three children.

_Why?_

"Huh? What was that?" Harry asked, looking a bit puzzled.

"Pro'lly just the ghost girl," Ron answered.

"Oh, I see-Aaah!" Harry turned to glance back at the chest only to come face-to-face with said ghost girl, who was now hovering mere inches away from him. He took a few rushed steps backwards.

"Hello," Hermione approached the girl. "I'm Hermione. And these are Harry and Ron. You're Dorothy, right?"

The ghost nodded.

"The chest - do you know if there's really something important in it?"

The ghost shrugged.

"Do you know where the key is to open it?"

The ghost tilted her head to the side, a suspicious look on her face. The attic was completely silent for several moments.

"Was it really an accident?" Harry blurted out. The ghost looked at him, her eyes narrowing. "Did you really fall down the stairs by accident?"

A strong gust of wind swept through the attic, upsetting dust, rattling the window and knocking down a hat stand. Amidst the chaos, two orbs full of molten fury shone from the shadows.

"My parents," Harry yelled out, as he shielded himself from the small objects the wind was throwing around the room. "He killed my parents."

The wind settled down and became a steady breeze. The ghost stared at Harry. He met her gaze and swallowed his nervousness.

"I was a baby when they died, murdered by Tom Riddle. My mum died protecting me."

The wind died down completely. The ghost's eyes were softer now, filled with sympathy.

"And Harry's not the only one he's hurt," Hermione added. "We have a friend, whose own parents don't recognize him because they were tortured into insanity by Vold-er, I mean, Tom Riddle's followers."

"She tries to hide it," Ron added in a soft voice, staring at the floorboards. "But my entire family's involved in the fight against 'im and I know me mum has nightmares about losing us."

A tear fell down the ghost's cheek.

"Please, if you know where the key to the chest is hidden, please tell us," Hermione implored.

The ghost hung her head.

_Not an accident. I loved him and he killed me. Then he came back. I don't know how long it was, but a few years must have passed, because he looked older. He brought the chest. He was here for hours - I don't remember everything he did. In the end, I could no longer leave this attic like I used to. And all I can do is try give a someone a hint. Show them what was wrong._

"So, do you know where the key is?" asked Ron.

The ghost nodded.

"Then where is it?" Harry demanded.

_I-I cannot say. Not even to myself. I can only show._

"Dammit!" Ron cursed.

"Trust Voldemort to bind a ghost with a Secret Keeper spell," Harry muttered as he ran a hand through his hair.

"Wait a minute!" Hermione exclaimed. "You said you tried to give people hints. Mrs. Grant said the reason people think the attic's haunted is because the sewing machine moves."

_Liza is right. I never did use such a thing._

Hermione pointed her wand at the sewing machine Ron had earlier placed on the back shelf.

"_Finite Incantatem_."

At once, the sewing machine began to morph and shrink until sitting in its place, was a large, gold key.

"Hermione, you are brilliant!" said Harry with a grin. He went to the shelf and picked up the key, rolling it over in his hands as he examined it. "It's rather fancy, but otherwise looks like an ordinary key."

"Well then, let's try it," Hermione said, motioning Harry towards the chest. Harry nodded.

"I just hope there aren't twenty dementors crammed inside that thing," Ron muttered. Harry's head shot up.

"Don't even _think_ that, Ron," he said with wide eyes.

"Oh don't be silly, you can't shrink living things and that chest would barely fit one dementor at best," Hermione admonished the both of them. "Well, go on, Harry."

Harry gulped, giving the chest a wary look. Ron stepped in front of Hermione, wand at the ready. Harry inserted the key into the lock and turned. There was a loud click. Harry squeezed his wand and took a deep breath. Slowly, he lifted the lid. . .

Suddenly, the lid slammed open and Harry felt something wiz by him. Ron screamed.

* * *

"Yes, very well. Thank you very much for your time," Connie Price said, before she hung up the phone. 

For the next several minutes she just sat there, staring at the notes on her desk in front of her. Then she made a sound of frustration and slumped over, placing her head on the table. The cool wood against her forehead was a pleasant contrast to the jumbled thoughts running through her head.

She had nothing. Not the police, not the witnesses, or any of the other rescue teams from either incident remembered anything unusual or any strange people on the scene.

The only thing she had was a photograph of suspicious origin. She had her cousin call the phone company and verify the text was from his phone and his own phone history showed something being sent at that time. But that didn't really prove much.

She'd managed to get data from the explosion sites and sent the figures to an old friend from college, who was a navy engineer specializing in designing gas systems for submarines and large ships. So, she had at least some hope of disproving the gas explosion theory. She sort of wondered why no one else had ever done the same.

Connie lifted her head again. Her biggest obstacle would be dealing with the government people. However, she couldn't really contact them with such a serious allegation without any proof. If there was some sort of new memory-altering device being used, then it was obviously top-secret and talking to anyone wouldn't be easy.

They could also just opt to wipe her memory, she realized. Her headache got bigger. She sighed and massaged her temples.

She went to her computer and opened her personal e-mail account. There was one other option open to her - her ex. She just hoped he still checked his old e-mail address.

* * *

Buffy made sure to yank her knife out of the door before exiting the demon bar. On her way out she passed by a young-looking, green-haired demon, who held the door open for her. He raised an eyebrow in surprise when he noticed she was human. So, Buffy smiled brightly at him and then chuckled at the bewildered look on his face. 

She squinted when she stepped out of the bar and got an eyeful of sunlight. She dug into her purse and took out a pair of sunglasses and her cellphone. There was a bounce in her step as she walked away from the demon bar, while dialling Faith's cell. She felt a lot more energized now that she actually had a vague idea of what she was looking for and whose ass she needed to kick.

It took a while, but Faith finally answered after about a dozen rings.

"Yo, B!" came the familiar voice of her sister slayer.

"Hey, you and the newbies find anything?" Buffy asked.

"Nope. Well, not anything really useful. Did just stake me some no-name Master Vamp calling himself Tuxedo Fang."

"Umm, how. .. lame."

"Yeah. Good fight, though."

"Really? So, did he actually wear a tuxedo?"

"Yup, had a rose and everything, yo."

"Fun. Absolutely horrible style, but fun."

"Either way, he's a pile of dust. So, yo, did you get any useful info?"

"Did I ever! Seems we may not be looking for demons this time, but wizards."

"Wizards? Like pointy hats, long beards, magic staffs and shit?"

"Not sure, but I doubt it. I mean, who'd be that cliche? 'Sides, they'd be about as inconspicuous as Giles at a Star Trek convention."

Faith chuckled. "Yo, that could be true, but would some wizards want Dawn?"

"Don't know. But apparently there's some powerful dark wizard runnin' around causing trouble. Something about proving wizard superiority and taking over the world, yadda, yadda - oh, and he's the one recruiting that vamp army. Apparently he's already got a loyal werewolf army and a bunch of demented demons on his side."

"Okay, so wizards, werewolves and vampires, huh?"

"Yeah, I know. I keep thinking there should be a catchy theme song to that."

"You could get Andrew to write one; sounds like the kind of geeky thing he'd love to do."

"A world of no. He was bad enough when he went through his documentary phase - I don't want to get him started on something even worse."

Faith laughed.

"Hey, yo, B, the mini-slayers are gettin' kinda antsy here, so we'll head on over to Slayer Central now."

"Gotcha. I'll call Giles and give him the low-down."

"Ya know that means he'll have all the research already prepared for us before we get there, yo."

"Damn. Hadn't thought of that. Well, this city is the Land of Giles, so maybe he knows where to find these wizards. Might be really easy."

"Hm. How hard can it be to find a megalomaniac dark wizard with a superiority complex?"

"Just don't jinx it."

"Right. See yah, B."

The line went dead. Buffy rolled her eyes. Faith was just as abrupt on the phone as she was in person. As she began to walk back to the Watcher's Council, Buffy called Giles.

* * *

Harry swung around. Ron was white as a sheet as he stared, wide-eyed, into the many beady eyes of a giant, furry-legged spider. Behind him, Hermione stood completely still, surprise written all over her face. 

"Ron!" Harry yelled, coughing as he breathed in some dust.

The spider turned back towards Harry. Harry met its gaze. Suddenly, many black beady eyes merged into two blood red ones that burned with hatred. He froze as Voldemort grinned maliciously at him.

"Harry Potter," he rasped, eyes sparkling with triumph. "You were too late. What a shame, such a pretty little thing too."

Harry looked down. Ginny stared back at him with sad, accusing eyes. The front of her blouse was soaked with blood from two gashes that ran from her left shoulder down to her right hip. Her left leg was twisted unnaturally to the side.

"Why?" she whispered and Harry watched as a single tear rolled down her impossibly pale cheek. "You promised. You said you'd protect me."

"Ginny," Harry whispered.

He stared at her, unable to move, barely aware of how heavy his breathing had gotten. He watched as Ginny blinked one last time and then her head fell to the side, eyes staring lifelessly into the distance. He slid to his knees. Somewhere, he heard Hermione yell something. But all he could listen to was his own heartbeat and the voice inside his head that repeated Voldemorts words: 'You have failed; you have failed. . .'

Suddenly, a shadow jumped in front of him and Ginny was gone. He looked up and saw Voldemort was gone as well. He blinked a few times. The large spider was back. Beside Harry, Ron pointed his wand at the spider.

"_Riddikulus_!"

The spider was suddenly wearing a pink, sparkly hat and fluffy pink bunny slippers as it attempted some sort of jig that clearly wasn't meant to be performed by something with more than two legs. Both Ron and Hermione laughed at the image. Within seconds, its legs were so mangled together that it tripped over itself and fell. It disappeared with a poof of smoke. The room fell silent.

Hermione ran to Harry.

"Harry?" she asked. "Are you all right?"

Harry stared at her blankly.

"Th-that wasn't real?" he asked. Then he began to cough. Hermione also cleared her throat.

"No, Harry, it was just a boggart."

"Blimey, mate, that was one hell of a nightmare!" Ron commented, his normal colouring almost back. Harry didn't answer.

Hermione coughed and waved her hand in front of her face. "Why is there suddenly so much dust in here?" she asked just as Ron also coughed.

_It came out of the chest._

Hermione and Ron both froze. They looked at each other and then down at Harry, who had a dazed expression on his face and looked like he was barely holding onto consciousness.

Hermione quickly took out her sunglasses and took them out of their hard, plastic case. Then she tore a piece of paper from her notebook and carefully swept it over the attic floor. When she brought it up again, there was a layer of dark orange dust on it. She poured it into the glass case and repeated the same process twice. Then she snapped the case shut.

"Ron, can you see if you can open one of the windows?" she said.

No sooner did Ron turn around, the window slammed open on its own. A great wind swept through the attic again and Ron and Hermione could practically see the trail of orange as it was blown out the small window.

"Thank you, Dorothy," Hermione said once the wind died down. The ghost nodded back to her. "Now, let's hope that's all the surprises Tom Riddle left behind."

Hermione peered into the chest. It was empty save for a small, plain wooden box. After a moment's hesitation, Hermione took her sweater off and carefully wrapped it around the box, making sure not to touch it with her bare hands. Harry, who was looking much better now, gave her a quizzical look, while Ron stared at the large amount of skin that was visible now that all she was wearing was a spaghetti-strap tank top.

"I'm not taking any chances," she told Harry. She glared at Ron and he somehow got the message and stopped staring for long enough to help Harry to his feet.

Harry chuckled at his blushing friend as he took his hand and got up shakily to his feet. He then turned to the ghost.

"Well, thank you for helping us, Dorothy," he said. The ghost smiled.

_You're welcome._

Ron and Hermione helped Harry down the stairs, Hermione talking about how she was going to look up the orange powder as soon as they got back to Hogwarts. As they passed the last step, a light breeze ruffled their hair.

_Good luck._

* * *

It was a cloudy night - not really dark and ominous, just cloudy with one or two stars peeking out along with the occasional glimpse from a not-quite-full moon. Enough to make the old, worn-out houses overlooking the back streets of West London appear tall and menacing under the light of a few scattered streetlamps. A few rats scurried about in the shadows behind a dumpster, while a page of yesterday's paper fluttered its way across the street. 

Two pairs of footsteps could be heard approaching - if the observer had extremely good hearing, that is.

"I thought you said you knew this city," a deep voice suddenly broke the silence.

"Oi, give me a break, Blue, s' been a century or so since I actually lived 'ere," a second voice answered. "You used to rule the whole bloody world, but I'll bet you couldn't even tell me where France is!"

There was a pause.

"Across the English Channel, a part of mainland Europe, it boarders Germany, Belgium and Switzerland," a third, very feminine, voice answered.

"Without using Fred's memory!"

Spike and Illyria (who had taken on Fred's appearance), came to an intersection. Spike stopped in front of the street sign and looked around. With a slight shrug, he took off to the left.

"Let's try this way," he muttered. Illyria followed.

Ten minutes later, Spike suddenly stopped and sniffed the air.

"Hang on, what's this then?" He looked in the opposite direction of where he had been about to turn. He smirked. "Looks like yet another party we 'aven't been invited to."

Illyria raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms over her chest.

"Isn't finding this Watcher's Council more important than playing with some half-breeds?" she asked, the deep voice indicating that Illyria herself was close to the surface.

"True, but they might be some of Ol' Voldy's half-breeds. I smell both werewolves and vampires, but no fresh blood. Somehow, I don't think that means they're hosting an inter-species tea party."

Illyria seemed to consider this for a moment. "Very well," she finally said and began walking in the direction of the gathering, morphing into her demon form as she passed Spike.

In an alley behind an odd-looking ethnic restaurant, Spike and Illyria came upon a gathering of about a dozen vampires and three werewolves. Standing at the head of the assembly was a big, feral-looking werewolf. Spike frowned. While his experience with werewolves was limited, the ones he had met had all looked like normal, rather harmless, humans. But this one actually looked animalistic with his shaggy, un-kept hair, hairy arms with large muscles and a wild glint in his eye. He smelt of blood.

Spike took a few steps into the alley and then disappeared into the shadows along the wall. Whatever they were here for definitely hadn't started yet, so he decided to simply observe for a while. Maybe they were giving out answers for free tonight. Illyria remained at the edge of the alley. She wasn't exactly hidden, but he had always had a suspicion she was somehow capable of remaining unnoticed until she wanted to be no matter how conspicuous she might seem.

Fenrir Greyback sneered at the vampires. Even in his human form, he could still smell the death surrounding them and it disgusted him. But this was for 'the Cause'. So, in order to bring the Ministry of Magic and the rest of the Wizarding world to its knees, he would ally himself with such lowly creatures.

Just so long as they understood he was in charge.

"So, are we, like, actually going to do anything other than stand here, 'cause I gotta tell yah - the view sucks majorly," a loud - and annoying - female voice said over the steady murmur of voices.

No one noticed Spike trying to desperately control a coughing fit from nearly swallowing his cigarette by accident.

Greyback looked to see who the American-sounding voice belonged to. In the centre of the group he saw a pretty, young girl with long blond hair, wearing a pink denim jacket. She was twirling a strand of hair between her fingers as she absently chewed gum. She noticed him looking at her and stopped playing with her hair.

"I mean, come on," she said, looking around to her fellow-vampires for support. "After having to be good for so long, I kinda want to just, you know, have with some proper murder and mayhem and stuff."

"Yeah, the bird 'ere's right," a skinny red head said. "We were told there would be killing involved with this Dark Lord bloke."

"Same 'ere!"

"Yeah, let's get on to the killing part!"

Suddenly, the quiet murmur was a colophony of raised voices. Greyback was amazed at the response. He stared at the girl for a few moments, but she seemed to remain completely oblivious. She didn't seem powerful, but could she be a master vampire despite her appearance? Greyback noticed the two werewolves he'd brought with him were beginning to fidget nervously.

He growled. It didn't matter who she was - he was in charge here.

Spike rolled his eyes. Trust Harmony to rouse up a group of dimwitted males in ten seconds flat by saying nothing of real importance. He noticed, with quite a bit of amusement, that the werewolf leader seemed a bit peeved at the response.

"Silence!" Greyback roared and the crowd quieted. He turned to the blonde. "Who are you? Are you a master vampire?"

The girl popped a large bubble of pink gum and blinked at him.

"Who me?" she asked. At his nod she smiled widely and squared her shoulders. "Well, I'm Harmony. Hi, everyone." She smiled at everyone in the group and gave them a little wave. Some of them smiled back at her dreamily. She took a deep breath. "I'm from L.A., well, Sunnydale really, but after graduating high school I kinda moved to L.A. And I'm not really a master vampire, although I did date one once - "

Spike groaned and hid his face in his hands - what was that idiot of a wolf thinking, letting Harmony take centre stage like that?

" - though, I suppose I actually was a Master for a while, back in Sunnydale. Had my own army of minions and everything! Even went up against the Slayer-"

"Wow, the Slayer? Really?" the vampire next to her exclaimed.

"Yup." She smiled proudly. "Of course, I wasn't quite strong enough to defeat her, but hey, that's why she's the Slayer, right?"

"Wow, you're lucky to have survived!" said another one.

Spike shook his head as he lighted another cigarette.

"Fascinating," Greyback said dryly. Then he walked up to the girl, because apparently she was one of those creatures that didn't shut up on their own.

Harmony's eyes widened in surprise and then fear as the werewolf grabbed her by the throat and growled at her.

"Whether or not you will actually be useful to the Dark Lord is questionable," he said in a low tone. "So long as you do as you're told, it's none of my concern. Whatever you were in America and however many of these 'Slayers' you fought, doesn't matter, because here, I'm the leader."

"Yeah, yeah, okay, whatever," Harmony rasped. Greyback let go and she rubbed her bruised neck with a pout.

"You didn't have to squeeze so hard, you know," she muttered under her breath.

Seeing their short-lived hero subdued so easily calmed the rest of the group and they now looked to Greyback with expectation. He grinned at them, baring his teeth as he did so. Now he had them in his grasp - he'd won and they would do as _he_ said.

"Well, now that was rather pathetic," came a new voice from the back. "Vampires submitting to some flea-bitten mutt? Must be an apocalypse on the way."

Greyback growled a threat, scanning the back of the crowd in vain for the speaker. All the other vampires were craning their necks to find him as well. Except for one.

"Oh my God, oh my God!" Harmony looked positively giddy and was bouncing up and down in excitement. "I totally know that voice!"

She pushed her way to the back of the crowd and peered intently into the shadows. Moments later, a dark-clad figure with very blond hair stepped out of them. Harmony squealed as she ran up to him.

Spike cringed at the on-coming blonde.

"Blondie-bear!" she exclaimed with a huge smile on her face.

"Don't call me that!" he growled at her.

"You're alive! I mean, obviously you're not alive since, hello, you're, like, undead and all, but I'm, totally glad to see you made it out of L.A. in one piece."

"Yeah, we made it. Well, most of us anyway." Spike grinned. "Was one hell of a fight too. Though for sure we were all goners when that demon army showed up; had a dragon and everything. Wolfram and Hart sure don't do things small."

The vampires broke out in excited murmurs. Greyback raised an eyebrow. Apparently, they'd heard of this 'battle' Harmony's friend was talking about. He looked the vampire over. He wasn't very big, but Greyback wasn't a pack leader for nothing. Even from this distance, he could sense the aura of power surrounding him. This wasn't some excitable newbie. Could this finally be a Master Vampire?

Greyback sneered. Whatever this vampire was, he would handle it. He was the strongest and fiercest werewolf in England.

"Silence!" he yelled at the crowd. They quieted again, except now they seemed to looked between him and the blond vampire, as if not quite sure who they should be paying attention to. He frowned and addressed the vampire: "Who are you?"

The vampire looked almost bored as he lit a cigarette, looking the werewolf over. Their eyes met.

"Spike," finally came the reply.

Greyback was taken aback by the stunned silence that followed. Greyback couldn't help feeling he was missing something. Then as if someone had flicked as switch, the vampires all reacted: some backed away and reached for their weapons, some stared at him with wide eyes full of awe and others merely talked excitedly amongst each other.

Greyback nodded to the werewolf beside him, who took his wand and pointed it upwards. Next came a loud explosion as several green-coloured fireworks exploded from its tip. The vampires calmed again.

"Spike, do you plan to kill him?" Harmony asked, pointing to Greyback. "'Cause he was really rude to me earlier for no good reason and I don't like him at all. I think you'd make a much better leader." She smiled at him.

Spike took a deep breath and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Harmony, luv," he said quietly. "Do yourself a favour and get lost. I'm not here to join some stupid army or sign up for some idiot's fan club. Things around 'ere are about to get ugly. Real ugly."

"B-but, I'm a vampire, so ugly is good, isn't it?"

"Buffy's on her way here." He wasn't really sure Buffy and the others knew what was going on, but he was pretty sure if things got bad she would end up here, so figured it was a fair bluff to make in order to get the blonde to leave.

Harmony stared at him.

"Buffy? As in the Slayer, Buffy? Why would she come here? Isn't she protecting Sunnydale or something? Except, wait - wasn't Sunnydale destroyed or something? So, I guess she can't really be there. But this isn't really the nicest of places right now, not really much of a vacation spot what with the Dark Lord planning to... Oh." She paused. "Ooooh, I get!"

"'Bout bloody time," Spike muttered.

Harmony turned to the group with a wide smile on her face.

"Well, it was fun getting to know you guys, but I guess I'll be going with plan B. I think I remember seeing an ad about Wolfram and Hart looking for a new secretary for their London offices. So, see yah and, um, best of luck with the whole taking over the world thing!"

There was a chorus of good-byes as the girl waved and then walked out of the alley. Spike sighed with relief. Then his expression hardened and he sauntered up to the remaining vampires. He glared at the ones at the front of the group. They cowered under his gaze and stepped aside until there was a clear path to the other end of the alley. He walked through.

He stopped in front of Greyback. Greyback growled.

Spike growled back, yellow flashing in his eyes.

"Don't suppose you feel like being a helpful lil' minion and telling us where this Dark Lord of yours can be found?" Spike asked with a cocky grin.

Greyback bristled.

"The Dark Lord only appears before his most loyal followers," he said, baring his teeth at the blond vampire. "You'll have to join our vampire army if you want to meet him. In fact, if you co-operate, I may even recommend you as a potential general."

Spike raised an eyebrow. He casually flicked what was left of his cigarette to the ground and squashed it with his foot. Greyback had all of three seconds to digest the excited glimmer in his eyes when he was suddenly being pressed against the solid concrete wall behind him by the neck.

"Sorry, wolfie," Spike said, his face only inches away. "I think I prefer option two, where I beat the shit out of you and you give me more precise directions."

A fist collided with his stomach and Greyback doubled over in pain. While Greyback was used to experiencing pain under the service of the Dark Lord, the wizard only used his wand to dispense punishment and so this more localized physical pain came as a bit of a surprise. The hand at his neck released its grip and he sank to his knees, wheezing as he fought to get his breath back.

And then he felt anger, his blood responding to some sort of primal instinct to the challenge dealt to him by the vampire standing over him. He lunged, teeth bared and ready to tear.

However, Spike had smelt the subtle changes coming from his opponent, felt the wolf coming to the surface and was ready. He dodged to the side just in the nick of time. Greyback swiped at thin air with unnaturally long nails, but managed to use his own momentum to turn the lunge into a roll that landed him in a crouched position facing Spike.

The two locked eyes and Greyback slowly stood up.

"Oh good, looks like you've decided to make this a tad more interesting," Spike commented with a grin.

"Pathetic fool. I'm Fenrir Greyback, the strongest werewolf in England. There's no way you could beat me."

"Greyback, sir!" someone from his right called. Greyback turned his head long enough to stick his hand out and catch a long, heavy lead pipe. He then took it in both hands and smirked triumphantly at Spike.

"Fuck," Spike cursed under his breath, eyes immediately scanning his surroundings again.

Greyback took the opportunity and charged. He swung the pipe at the vampire's head. Spike stepped back just in time to narrowly avoid the blow. Then he flipped backwards in order to gain some distance between them. This time the wolf was faster and while Spike managed to twist his body in time to avoid getting hit on the head, he winced as the heavy lead pipe came down onto his right shoulder. He rolled away and sprang to his feet.

Greyback was already swinging again, but Spike had had enough of 'Hit the Vampire'. The pipe came at him from the right again and this time he didn't bother dodging it. He blocked it with his right hand. Pain shot from his wrist, travelling up his arm, making his shoulder scream in agony.

Spike just grit his teeth and treated his opponent to a left uppercut. Greyback staggered back, his grip on the pipe loosening enough for Spike to wrench it away.

Spike didn't hesitate, didn't even think. He swung the pipe around and ran it through Greyback. The werewolf screamed and fell to his knees.

Pain. There was lots of pain. Greyback looked down at his torso, feeling oddly disconnected from himself as he stared at the lead pipe sticking out of his belly, blood gushing out of the wound. His vision blurred a bit, but he blinked the spots away.

He looked up at the vampire. Spike was looking down at him with hard eyes. Those were a killer's eyes, Greyback thought; he knew exactly what he'd done and didn't regret it one bit.

"You may be the strongest wolf around, but I began killing way before you or your Dark Lord crawled out of your mothers' wombs."

"Wh-who are you?" Greyback rasped. Suddenly, he coughed violently, eyes widening as he realized there was blood on the hand he'd put in front of his mouth.

"Already told ya, mate, I'm Spike. Been going by that name for over a hundred years now. Mind you, that was when I went to America, don't think I ever returned to England properly after that. Was just Dru and me for the most part after Angelus left. . ."

There were gasps from those around them.

"Angelus?!" Even without any sort of formal Wizarding education, Greyback wasn't so ignorant as to never have heard of the Scourge of Europe. Spike grinned.

"That's right, I'm 'is grandchide, William the Bloody."

Recognition shone in Greyback's eyes. He braced himself with his left hand as a wave of weakness overcame him. He chuckled dryly.

"I see," he whispered. "I never did stand a chance then."

Spike's eyes narrowed and he cursed to himself. Apparently he'd taken things too far. He grabbed the wolf by his hair and pulled him up.

"All right, now where do I find your Master?"

The werewolf glared at him defiantly.

"Don't get cocky you undead leech," he snarled. "You may be a legend, but the Dark Lord is still many times more powerful than you." He smirked. "Only Dumbledore stood a chance of defeating him and he's dead..." He coughed up more blood. "There isn't a wizard or witch alive more powerful than him."

Spike knew the instant the man in his arms was dead. The body stilled and grew limp, eyes glossed over and the smell of fear was replaced by a different, more putrid odour. Spike tossed the werewolf aside.

"Are you done here?" a familiar deep voice asked.

Spike looked up to see Illyria had walked up to the front of the vampire crowd. He looked around him to see that the other two werewolves must have fled during the confusion of the fight. Cowards.

Spike shrugged.

"Yeah, I'm done. Let's go, Blue."

* * *

Hope you all enjoyed this chapter! The action is finally starting up; from now on everything will happen much faster. Please review and tell me what you think. 

Author's notes:

**TARDIS** - The Doctor's spaceship in _Doctor Who_. It's an acronym for Time And Relative Dimensions In Space. From the outside it looks like an old, British police box (aka. a blue wooden box and could fit maybe about three or four people if they squished together), but on the inside it's huge - as in has enough corridors to fit the population of a small city, huge.

**Orphanage** - I borrowed the description from the books, via the Harry Potter Lexicon. However, since it was never given a name, I decided to name it. Both Mrs. Grant (I nearly called her Jo just for laughs) and Dorothy are characters I invented to serve my purpose.

**Harmony** - Yep, cameo #2. She wasn't planned at all, just sort of hijacked my muse and wouldn't give her back until she'd been included in the chapter. P

A lot more about the what happened in the attic will be explained in the next chapter.


	9. Chapter 9 pt 1

Hello there, I'm back with another chapter. This one ran away on me while I was writing it, so I had to divided into two parts. The second part is done, but I'm waiting for one of my betas to get around to reading it. I'm thinking it'll be up sometime next week. Thanks to everyone who reviewed my last chapter; reviews make me happy and encourage me to write. Also thanks to **Gwen** and **LadySunflower** for betaing the chapter.

-1**The Prophecy of the Four**

**Chapter 9** - The Road Less Travelled Pt.1

* * *

When Harry and Ron entered the library after breakfast, Hermione was already entrenched at a table in the library. There were several piles of books barricading her in from the left, a stack of hand-written scrolls and a couple of diaries on her right. In the centre of this clutter, sat a familiar small, wooden box. The desk beside her had a full set-up of potions supplies, including a cauldron (which looked like it had been used not too long ago). The boys gaped at the sight.

"Blimey, how long've you been down 'ere?" Ron exclaimed.

Hermione looked up from the books she had opened in front of her.

"Since about seven, I think," she answered and turned back to the books.

"Couldn't sleep?" Harry asked with a knowing smile.

"Uh huh."

The boys each grabbed a chair from neighbouring tables (since the ones that were supposed to belong to Hermione's were already occupied) and joined her.

"So, have you figured out how to destroy it?" Ron asked.

"Not really..." She put her quill down and looked at them. "I did figure out what that red powder that came out of the chest was."

"Oh?" Harry asked. "What was it?"

"It's called the Silent Reaper and used to be quite common about 300 years ago, until the Ministry of Magic passed the Illegal Substances Proclamation, which banned about half the ingredients required to make it. When made correctly, the powder's supposed to be almost transparent-"

"So, Voldemort didn't make it right?"

"Well, not exactly. Apparently one or two of the ingredients can be substituted with less rare- though no less illegal- ones and then it turns into reddish-brown colour. It's probably why You-Know-Who added the boggart into the box. It kept us from noticing the powder right away. As it is, if Ron and I hadn't been there, Harry, you might've died of an induced heart attack."

Hermione stopped to allow the information to sink in. Several moments later, both boys were staring at her with wide eyes.

"Bloody 'ell," said Ron. Harry gulped.

"You mean, I-I really nearly... I mean, I did feel a bit odd and my heart was racing and I guess I couldn't breathe well-" He suddenly stopped, as the words he was saying sunk in. His eyes widened even more.

Hermione nodded.

"Exactly. The powder acts as a partial hallucinogen, inhibiting your normal thought processes and intensifying your emotional responses while it induces elevated heart rate. So basically, by the time you notice something's wrong, you're already dying."

"Wow, that's really scary," said Ron, looking at Harry as if he were suddenly surprised his friend was actually alive. But then he blinked. "Hang on. That means I basically saved your life yesterday. Brilliant!"

Ron smiled widely. Hermione rolled her eyes and Harry chuckled.

"Yes, I'm very grateful for that. Would've been quite the disappointment if my summer plans of defeating Voldemort had ended in some old haunted attic."

"I'm sure Trelwany would've had a ball."

The three of them laughed at Ron's muttered comment, but eventually Harry cleared his throat and turned once more to Hermione.

"So, have you, uh, figured out anything about this box?" He reached out to touch the smooth wood, but stopped mere millimetres away from the surface.

"Go ahead, you can touch it," Hermione said and Harry did, running his fingers along the smooth wood. "I've cast several curse and jinx-detecting spells and as far as I can tell it's just an ordinary box."

"So, you mean there's no more surprises?" Ron asked, his tone of voice suggesting he didn't quite believe it.

"No, more likely it means that the surprises are inside the box."

"Well, at least we definitely know there aren't any dementors hiding in this one," Harry joked, though his eyes looked a bit nervous. Suddenly, he frowned. "That reminds me, my boggart's always been a dementor, but yesterday it turned into, well, you saw it."

"Oh, that's perfectly normal. I mean, it's been a while since you've come across a boggart, right?"

"Well, yes."

"And since then you've learned how to cast a Patronus. You know how to fight dementors now, so they don't scare you so much anymore. Or rather, they're not your greatest fear anymore." She paused for a moment. "Everyone's fears change as they grow up, meet people. Fall in love..."

There was a moment of silence and then Ron cleared his throat.

"You know, as her older brother, it kinda makes me glad that you care about her that much." He smiled warmly at Harry and placed a friendly arm onto his shoulder.

Harry smiled back at his friend.

"Thanks Ron."

"Right, well now that that's settled," Hermione interrupted, "why don't you open the box?"

The boys blinked at her in unison.

"What, me?" Harry asked.

"Doesn't matter who, but we're not going to destroy the Horcrux by staring at the box it's inside."

"Um, right."

Harry gulped and took his wand out. Holding it between his fingers, he carefully took hold of the base of the box with one hand and the lid with the other. He leaned back as far away as he could and slowly eased the lid off, handling it as if it were going to blow up at the slightest abrupt movement. Age had made the wood stick together slightly, but with a bit of coaxing, the lid came off.

Nothing blew up and nothing jumped out of the box. Harry carefully placed the lid on to the table and all three let out the breath they were holding and loosened the grips on their wands. They approached the box and peered inside.

"The Cup of Hufflepuff," Harry whispered. "That's exactly what it looked like in the Pensieve."

"But why is it in water?" Ron asked.

"I don't think that's water," said Hermione, reaching for the box and tipped it slightly to the side.

"Oi, Hermione!" Harry exclaimed and jumped backwards. "Be careful!"

Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Of course I'm being careful! Well, now this is interesting..."

"Huh?"

"Wow."

As the other two watched, Hermione slowed tipped the box forward until it was standing on its side. Inside, a silvery liquid shimmered as light hit it, but otherwise didn't move at all. The Cup of Hufflepuff was suspended within the liquid, not having shifted from its original position at all during the movement.

"It looks more like a gel," Hermione commented.

"Could it be magical ice or something?" Harry asked.

Ron reached out cautiously.

"Ron, be careful," Hermione warned him. "We don't know what it is or what it does."

"Don't worry, I'm not going to actually touch it. I just want to see if it feels cold-"

His fingers weren't quite touching the gel-like substance, when suddenly a grey light flashed out from it. Ron screamed in pain.

With the reflexes of a Seeker, Harry grabbed his friend's arm and shoved him backwards. Ron staggered backwards and then collapsed to his knees, shaking slightly and breathing heavily. Hermione was at his side in an instant.

"Ron! Are you alright?!" she asked even as she began to cast a diagnostic spell.

"I-I think so," he answered quietly, his eyes still wide. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "I-bloody hell."

"What happened?" Harry asked, now also kneeling beside him.

"Everything just suddenly got dark and it began to hurt. It was like I was on fire, except it wasn't warm. It just hurt. A lot."

"Sounds a bit like the Cruciatus."

"Was there anything else? Like sounds or smells or-"

"Hermione, I was in too much bloody pain to think about anything else!" He took a deep breath to calm himself. "But no, I think it was pretty much just dark."

Hermione was silent for a moment.

"I guess we need to figure out what this liquid gel is in order to get at the Horcrux."

"So, more research," Harry clarified. Ron groaned.

"Yup." Just then Hermione's stomach growled. She blushed slightly. "Well, maybe I should go get some breakfast first."

The boys laughed.

* * *

The handle on the door to the Prime Minister's office slowly turned. There was a pause. Then the door slowly opened about five centimetres. A shadow appeared in the space and hovered for a moment, an eye peeking out from the room. Then it disappeared and the door once again slowly- and quietly- closed.

Inside his office, Prime Minister Anthony Davidson breathed a sigh of relief. It seemed his secretary really had gone out for lunch. And as luck would have it, the little man from the painting was also gone. Perhaps they both were in a meeting in the Ministry of Magic. Hopefully, it would be a long one.

Anthony practically sprinted back to his desk and pulled out the backpack he had stuffed underneath it this morning. If anyone asked, he was finally getting around to fulfilling his New Year's Resolution of going to the gym several times a week. He even had a pair of running shoes and jogging shorts inside (until last night he hadn't even realized he owned a pair of jogging shorts). However, at the moment he merely pushed those aside and pulled out the other item- his old laptop.

He plugged it into the wall and turned it on. Then he ran to the door to listen, in case anyone had come back. Now that he had finally decided to do something, he didn't want to get caught and have his memories erased. Hence, the old laptop.

When dealing with the Cornelius Fudge, Anthony had always just assumed wizards lived in their own world and had very little knowledge of the 'Muggle' one. However, Kingsley Shacklebolt had disproved that theory, since he didn't seem to have any problem whatsoever in using either the telephone or a computer. It made Anthony wonder just how good wizards really were at these things. As his secretary, Shacklebolt had access to most of his computer files as well as a key to his office.

He'd gotten his new laptop two years ago, just after he'd become Prime Minister, but had never had the heart to throw out his old one since it 'technically' did still work- he was a bit of a pack rat in that sense. Shacklebolt had no way of knowing about this old laptop and if he was, in fact, capable of hacking into his computer's memory, there would be no evidence of his having checked this e-mail account.

When he returned to his desk, the laptop was on and he sat down to check his e-mail. Fifteen minutes later, he remembered why he'd decided to retire this laptop in favour of the new one. On his fourth try, the internet browser finally let him access his inbox without freezing. He had two new e-mails amongst the accumulated spam.

The first one made his eyebrows skyrocket at the sender's address and made his mind burn with a thousand questions. But the second message was more important. It was the one he'd been waiting for.

As expected, the Finance Minister's message was short and to-the-point. The meeting would take place tonight at his residence- his wife was taking their children to visit their grandmother in Brighton for the weekend.

It was perfect; a group of colleagues meeting for drinks on a Friday night wouldn't attract too much suspicion. He hoped. And if they were up all night, then they could always blame it on pleasant company and vintage bourbon. Anthony felt a weight being lifted off his shoulders even as another settled in to take its place. After all, there was no turning back now.

He looked back to the painting. It was still blank. He looked at the clock. There was still a good twenty minutes left before Shacklebolt was due to return- assuming he was going to be early. So Anthony decided to satisfy his curiosity and find out why his ex-girlfriend was e-mailing him on his old, personal address. He hadn't so much as spoken to her in three years.

It was addressed to "Prime Minister Anthony Davidson". He blinked at the words. They somehow seemed out-of-place, considering who'd sent the e-mail. He wondered whether she made a mistake. Except that a journalist of her experience would know to send any interview requests and such to his Public Relations department.

He read the rest of the message.

**I apologize for breaking protocol by sending this message to your private e-mail address (and thereby abusing the fact that I know your private e-mail address). However, the information I'm looking for is important and I require it rather urgently. I have other leads, but I believe you'd be the best person to talk to.**

**In the enclosed attachment are a set of photos taken on July 27th, only minutes before the alleged gas pipe explosion. I have reason to believe they are real and not just some prank. However, curiously enough, the individual who took them seems to have no recollection of having done so, or, oddly enough, of having seen the scenes as they were photographed despite being there.**

**As I've looked back, I have noticed an unsettling trend of similarities between the recent string of 'gas explosions'. In fact, I don't believe they're gas explosions at all. **

**I look forward to hearing from you.**

**-Connie Price**

There was a horrible fire-breathing dragon uncoiling itself in Anthony's gut. He could feel it, the dreaded feeling that it was about to burst out and burn him alive. His hand was shaking as he moved the mouse and clicked on the attachment.

He didn't know whether to curse or be thankful to his ancient turtle-paced monstrosity of a laptop. It took two of the longest minutes of his life for the images to load. He couldn't help but stare at the screen during this time, as the first one started to gradually reveal itself, even if slightly out-of-focus. It was like watching a train wreck. Except that the only blood rushing anywhere, was his.

The picture finally came into focus and the Prime Minister nearly fell out of his chair. He could feel the sweat start to gather at his brow and his breaths become short and shallow.

Oh. So, this is what a panic attack feels like.

He'd never seen any pictures before and had only been given the vaguest of descriptions, yet he still knew exactly what he was looking at.

"Death Eaters," he whispered. He closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths. He refused to panic over a damn picture!

He opened his eyes and looked at the clock. Five minutes left. He looked back to the screen and hit 'reply'. He'd dated this woman; he knew exactly how persistent she could be when she'd caught scent of something. It also worried him that, despite all the wizards' precautions, she'd managed to get her hands on something like this.

He stared at the screen for a minute, trying to figure out what to tell her. He could always feign ignorance... Except, wasn't the whole point behind tonight's meeting to figure out a way to protect the public and tell them what was going on without actually telling them what was going on?

Another look at the clock forced him to make it short and simple.

**Meet me tomorrow at 1 pm at our usual spot in the park.**

**-Anthony**

He sent it off and prayed his decision was right.

* * *

Ron sighed. He was sitting at a library table, slouched over a rather tattered tome with his head resting on his left hand. He switched hands, resting his head on his right instead, and sighed again.

"You know, I thought finding the Horcrux would be the 'ard part," he complained. "Getting rid of it should be the easy part."

"Ron, even Professor Dumbledore had a hard time getting rid of them," Harry commented, sounding every bit as interested in his friend's complaints as he was in the book he was reading.

"We both know it'll be Hermione who figures it out in the end, so why are we bothering anyway?"

"Because it's better than sitting around being useless."

"I suppose. Um, where is Hermione, anyway? I don't think I've seen her in a while."

"Hmm...?" Harry looked up from the book and looked around. "I don't know, she probably went to get some more books." He looked back to his book.

"We'll 'ave the whole bloody restricted section here soon!"

"Ron, watch your language!"

"There she is, Ron."

Harry jumped as something slammed down beside him. As he'd predicted, Hermione had brought back three more books, although the top one wasn't as monstrously huge as the most of the ones she tended to come back with.

"_The Ancient Art of Sealing Potions_?" he read the title out loud.

"I think I've figured out what it is."

Ron slammed his book shut. "Good. What is it?"

"It's called Dio Arguros and was developed by a group of Greek wizard priests to protect sacred treasures and scriptures that belonged to the gods so that only a worthy warrior could take it."

Hermione paused and the air suddenly became rather heavy. Harry and Ron exchanged glances as they noticed for the first time that their friend's hands were shaking.

"So, how do we make ourselves, uh, 'worthy' of taking the cup?" Harry prompted.

"You don't, really. It's all a mind game. The name means god's, or godlike, silver - I'm not quite sure if it refers to Zeus in particular, or just any of the gods - but it has nothing to do with any god. It's just a spell that uses a potion as its base..."

Hermione trailed off again and bit her lip. Now Harry was really starting to get worried- his friend was stalling and she looked like she was trying very hard to appear calm.

"Oi, are you going to bloody tell us, or are we supposed to guess?" Ron finally demanded. Hermione winced slightly.

"Ron!" Harry admonished him. Then he turned to Hermione. "We _can_ break the seal, right?"

Hermione nodded. "It's quite simple, in theory. You basically just reach in and grab it -"

"Then what's the big deal?"

"Ron, I'm pretty sure Voldemort wouldn't use a seal that's as easy to break as that."

"Yeah, but-"

"During the time of Ancient Greece, the Wizarding world as such didn't really exist and wizards just sort of co-existed with Muggles. Muggles at the time didn't place much value on human life and there was no Ministry of Magic to regulate how magic was used and what spells were wrong. There really wasn't much of a distinction between dark magic and light magic."

"That's, um, horrible..."

"Uh, yeah..."

The boys exchanged confused looks.

"This particular seal was banned just before the founding of Hogwarts, not long after the creation of the Wizengamot. In fact, it wasn't only banned, but the Ministry has done its best to destroy anything and everything that could enable anyone to recreate it-"

"Clearly, that didn't work out so well," Ron mumbled.

"-It's considered one of the darkest forms of magic. In order to create it, you need to perform a brutal sacrifice."

"Sacrifice? What do you mean?" Harry asked, dreading the answer.

"As in a person, Harry. Except just killing them isn't good enough; it-it requires torture. You were probably right before - what Ron felt probably was the Crutiatus. In order to break the seal and take out the sacred treasure or whatever, the 'worthy one' has to endure the torment of the sacrifice. Apparently, the sacrifice would drink the potion and then be tortured for at least one hour and no longer than three. You see, the seal itself is made with the blood and memories of the sacrifice. But it takes at least an hour for the potions to fully imprint itself with the sensations and the potion itself is a poison that kills the sacrifice in about three hours and the sacrifice has to be alive to extract the blood and memories."

Hermione stopped, looking like she was either about to cry or be sick.

"Bloody hell."

"Trust Voldemort to use a seal that was banned and lost for centuries." Harry groaned. "You're sure there's no other way to break the seal?"

"Yes. There isn't a whole lot of information about it and most of what I did find seemed to disagree with itself, but every single source agreed on that point. In order to break it, you have to reach in and take the treasure, which means reliving the last living sensations of the sacrifice."

"Oi, if the sacrifice dies in the end, does that mean the, uh, 'worthy one' also dies?" Ron asked.

"Not according to the texts. But I imagine it does quite a bit of damage anyway- mentally at least if not physically."

"Sounds just brilliant."

An awkward silence descended upon them. Eventually, Harry cleared his throat.

"So, how are we going to decide who's going to break the seal?"

Ron snorted. "I should've thought that much was obvious."

"I-it is?"

"Of course. It can't be 'Mione, 'cause without her we wouldn't be able to destroy the bloody thing. And you're the 'Chosen One' or 'Wizarding Champion' or whatever who's supposed to kill You-Know-Who, so we can't risk you going at it in case the books were wrong and the seal-breaking really does do permanent damage." He took a deep breath. "So it's got to be me."

"Ron..."

"It's the bloody chess game all over again."

Harry's eyes widened. He didn't know what to say, so he looked to Hermione. He noticed unshed tears in her eyes and realization dawned on him. She had known. She'd been reluctant to tell them because she'd already known what would end up happening. But Harry didn't want to see his friends hurt because of him.

"Are you sure about this?" he finally asked Ron.

"Are you a complete idiot?! Of course I'm not sure about this! Do you actually think I want to spend the rest of the afternoon reliving someone else's torture? But we don't have much of a choice, do we?!"

"Look, I'm sure there has to be another way -"

"Bloody hell, you're not only stupid, but deaf too apparently! Hermione already said there wasn't."

"Well, I'm not just going to stand by and watch you get tortured or relive the torture, or whatever! Defeating Voldemort's my responsibility, so if anyone's going to break the seal it's going to be me!"

Harry stood up abruptly, but Ron quickly shoved him back down.

"Fuck Harry, do you always have to be the hero?!"

"Ron, watch your language," Hermione said quietly. Ron glared at her.

"This has nothing to do with being a hero, I -"

"I don't care."

Not giving Harry the chance to continue protesting, Ron stepped up to the wooden box that was sitting innocently on the table next to them. He took a deep breath. Honestly, he sort of wished it was Hermione protesting his decision, although he hardly had expected her to - she had most likely realized this was how things would end up long before she'd told the two of them. He quite wasn't sure whether he was angry at her for being so apparently willing to let him sacrifice himself like this or glad she wasn't making this harder. Not that it mattered. He wasn't just 'the best friend', some useless bystander to cheering Harry on from the sidelines. He would break the stupid seal and get the Horcrux if it killed him.

With a determined, and slightly angry, look on his face, Ron thrust his hand into the silvery liquid. The second his hand touched the seal, it let off the same grey light as before. His eyes widened and he screamed.

His scream reverberated through the library, breaking the serenity of the centuries-old room and scaring millions of hapless dust mites. And the screaming didn't stop, simply continued second after agonizing second. Beads of sweat gradually appeared on the boy's forehead and his entire body began to shake.

Suddenly, he slumped forward and the screaming stopped. All that could be heard was his harsh panting.

"Is it over?" Harry whispered.

Ron whimpered and Harry froze. It was as Harry tried to sneak a peek at Hermione that the red head let out an agonizing wail. Harry's eyes snapped back to Ron in time to see his friend collapse to the ground, his hand still lost within the depths of the glowing silver gel. Except that now his hand was in all the way past his wrist.

Just then Hermione ran past Harry and out of the library, tears streaming down her face.

Harry wanted to run after her, but he couldn't tear away from the horrible sight before him. Ron wailed again as his right leg spasmed. His eyes were clenched shut and tears began to trickle from the corner of his eyes. An image of Ginny's pale and lifeless face flitted across Harry's mind and suddenly Harry wasn't feeling very good.

He too ran out of the library.

Hermione was sitting on the ground next to the library doors, her head resting on drawn-up knees. She looked up at Harry with eyes that were red from crying.

"I-I couldn't..." she began.

Harry felt tears prickle at the corners of his own eyes. He sat down next to her and put his arms around her.

"I know."

Hermione shifted a bit so that she could return the embrace. She was shaking.

"You could go back and lay down in the Common Room for a bit," Harry finally suggested.

"No. I know I can't do anything to help him right now, but I feel like I owe it to Ron not to run away. If he has to endure the pain, then I at least have to endure listening to it."

Harry nodded and tightened his hold. They remained like this, supporting each other, giving each other strength, until the screams and wails finally stopped.

* * *

There was a timid knock at the door. Lord Voldemort looked up in annoyance from the yellowish tome he was reading. There was so much fear in that soft sound, that he knew it had to be Pettigrew - likely bearing news he wouldn't find very agreeable.

He placed the tome down on the side table beside him.

"Enter!" he called, not bothering to mask the annoyance at being interrupted from his voice. As the door to the study slowly opened, Voldemort quickly moved the tome a bit, so that it obscured his Latin-English dictionary.

Peter Pettigrew reluctantly stepped into the room. His eyes darted from side to side, and he was shaking. Mere seconds after entering the room, he was already on his knees and apologizing to his master for disturbing him. However, the Dark Lord's interest was drawn by the second, unfamiliar man who followed Pettigrew into the study. He was a tall, scruffy-looking man with dark hair, a hint of wildness in his eyes and a sort of darkness in his aura. A werewolf.

"Why are you here, Pettigrew?" Voldemort asked, interrupting Pettigrew's stuttering apologies. The werewolf knelt down on one knee beside the Death Eater.

"Th-the werewolves have just r-reported in, my lord. About l-last night, I mean."

"And?" His eyes strayed to the newcomer, not liking the possible implications of his presence. "So, where is Greyback?"

Petigrew whimpered and began to shake even more. The werewolf cleared his throat.

"Dead, milord," he said in a scratchy voice.

The Dark Lord blinked several times, before composing himself. He narrowed his eyes at the wolf.

"What did you say?" he asked in a tone that coated the room in sheets of ice.

"Fenrir Greyback's dead; was killed by one of 'em vampires last night, he was."

The Dark Lord was silent for a moment and the two minions held their breaths.

"You were there?" he finally asked.

The werewolf looked up. "Yeah, that I was, uh, milord."

"What happened?"

"Well, we was talking to them vampires what showed up. I mean, Greyback was, me, George and Leon was watching 'im. First there was this blonde girl vampire what we thought might be trouble- said she was a Master Vampire once and everything, but once Greyback showed 'er who was boss, she was quiet. Then this other vampire showed up outta nowhere. Turns out the first blonde knew 'im; even called 'im 'Blondie Bear' or something, so I figures they were real good friends once. Anyways, 'e told 'er to leave and she did -"

"Unless you wish to feel a healthy dose of Cruciatus, I suggest you shorten this tale of yours," said Voldemort and the werewolf's eyes widened.

"Uh, y-yes, sir. Sorry, s-milord." He gulped. "The vampire what showed up said 'is name was Spike. The others seemed to know 'im. He was looking for you, wanted Greyback to tell 'im where to find you, but Greyback wouldn't tell 'im nothing. So, they fought and the vampire won. Ran 'im through with a steel pipe, he did. Then we Apparated away."

"You said the vampire's name was Spike?" Voldemort asked after a moment's silence.

"Yes, sir, I'm positive that's what 'e called 'imself. Sounded like 'e was from London, but I remembers 'im saying something about a battle in L.A. and the girl what recognized 'im was American too."

"What did he look like?"

"Uhh, well, 'e wasn't real big or nothing, but I guess 'e was a Master. He 'ad short, blond 'air and a long, leather coat and-"

"Pettigrew," Voldemort interrupted, "take him and find Lucius. Use a Pensieve and find out whether this vampire is the same one Lucius encountered in New York. If it is then find out everything you can about him."

"D-do you think he could be a threat, my lord?" Pettigrew asked.

"I hardly think one vampire could pose a huge threat, however if he did indeed come all the way from New York to find me, then I'd like to know who he is. Should he gain supporters of his own, he could become a nuisance. One I'd rather avoid."

"Y-yes, of course, my lord. I'll go find Lucius then."

Pettigrew bowed down once more to the Dark Lord and then quickly exited the room. The werewolf followed. Voldemort returned to his previous readings.

* * *

The Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables had been moved to the sides, pressing them right up against the Gryffindor table on one side and the Slytherin table on the other side of the Great Hall. This created a wide space going down the middle. In the centre, Hermione was kneeling on the ground with a piece of parchment in one hand and her wand in the other. Every once in a while she would glance at the parchment and then continue drawing runes along a circle about a metre in diameter on the floor, using what looked like black ink that came out of the tip of her wand.

Ron watched her from where he was sitting on a chair, his back to the Hufflepuff table. He was still several shades paler than normal and felt like he wanted to go into long-term hibernation, but at least he no longer felt like he was at death's door.

Everything had hurt so much. He hadn't been able to see anything in the darkness that had enveloped him after he'd touched the seal, but he'd been able to feel. There had been the all-encompassing burning, which Harry had said was probably the Cruciatus and then there were more localized pains, flesh being cut and bones broken. And then there were gentle touches that were sometimes warm like a person's hand and sometimes cool, like a wand. Those were probably his least favourite sensations - they reminded him that there was an actual person on the other side of this pain, someone who was probably enjoying it.

Suddenly waking up from the pain was a bigger shock than the pain itself. One second everything was dark and cold and then the next there was light and warmth. The pain had been so clear in his mind that at first he'd merely lain there panting, not shielding his eyes from the harsh light because he didn't think he could move his arms. Then Harry and Hermione had rushed to his side. It was when Harry was helping him sit up that Ron realized it didn't actually hurt to do so. He was just as surprised to see that there wasn't actually any blood streaming down his torso.

Then he had passed out and woken up several hours later to the smell of tea and fresh pastries. While Hermione's back was turned and her nose buried in a book, Harry had confided to him that it had been her, who'd gone down to the kitchens and begged Dobby to make them and bring them to the library even though bringing food there was forbidden. Ron's ears had promptly turned pink, but he wasted no time in trying to eat one. Unfortunately, it turned out that not all the pain was only in his head. His throat did actually feel like someone had shoved a hot poker down it.

His throat still felt that way even after the potion Hermione had given him. Also, his head felt like it was housing a herd of stampeding centaurs. However, he'd finally managed to convince all his limbs that they weren't broken in several places, not that it meant he could stand straight without the entire room swaying just yet.

Finally, Hermione finished the rune circle and stood up. She motioned to Harry, who was standing a few steps away from Ron holding the Cup of Hufflepuff. He walked up to the circle and placed the cup in the centre of it. Then they both hurried back to Ron, or more specifically the book that was laying open on the table next to him.

"Right, so should I count off or will you?" Hermione asked as she picked it up, skimming the lines one more time.

"Count off? Isn't that a bit-"

"Look Harry, we have to both say the spell at exactly the same time. It's incredibly important that we do."

"Alright, fine. You count off and on zero we'll both cast the spell."

"Fine. If it works, then the runes should glow and a sort of mist should come out of the cup. If the runes disappear at the end of the spell, then it's worked and the Horcrux is destroyed."

"Good." Harry took a deep breath. "Let's do it, then."

Hermione put the book back down on the table.

"Oi," Ron rasped, his voice no more than a whisper. His friends turned to him and he grinned tiredly at them. "Good luck."

"Thanks," Harry answered with a grin of his own. Hermione also smiled, before becoming serious again.

They each went to stand at opposite ends of the circle. They were facing each other- Harry with his back to the doors and Hermione to the Head Table. They took their wands out and pointed them at the cup- their eyes focused intently on that single object.

Hermione took a deep breath. "Three...two...one..."

They chanted the five words they'd been practicing for the past hour. Dark red beams of light shot out of their wands and hit the cup.

It took a few seconds for anything to happen, but slowly the trio began to see a light blue-grey fog swirling around the base of the cup and then upwards, gathering around the rim. As they watched, it became thicker and the cloud at the top bigger. The runes also began to glow- only very dimly at first, but as the mist grew thicker, they shone brighter. Then the mist began to darken, like a miniature rain cloud.

"It's working," Harry whispered in awe.

The dark cloud of mist grew, gradually enveloping the entire top of the cup. Suddenly, light shot up from the runes, surrounding the cup with a wall of brightness. The students had to shield their eyes from it. It got even brighter and then it began to dim. Except that it wasn't really dimming, but changing colour. The white light turned to pink and kept darkening to red, until it was the same dark red colour as the light that had shot out from Harry and Hermione's wands.

Ron, Harry and Hermione were so engrossed in watching the light, that they didn't notice when a wind had begun to blow through the Great Hall, until it became strong enough to blow their hair into their faces.

Hermione frowned. She watched as the wind picked up a stray scrap of parchment off the floor and then blew it along the Ravenclaw table. Her eyebrows shot up as the scrap suddenly left its original route and began to circle around Harry, rising steadily upwards. She looked up and her eyes widened. The wind above them was so strong she could actually see the displacement of air as it gathered around the edge of the red light.

Hermione observed it for a while, once again going over everything she had read about this spell. Suddenly, her eyes widened even further.

"Damnit!" She looked away from the wind. "Harr-"

The red light shattered as the room was engulfed in an explosion that was felt by every being in the castle.

* * *

Madame Pomfrey hummed to herself as she scanned the shelf for Skele-Gro. Not finding it, she turned to the box she had on the counter and rifled through the small bottles inside. She took three out and placed them in their appropriate spot on the shelf.

The Hogwarts nurse used to come to the Order of the Phoenix Headquarters only rarely, especially when it was still at No. 12 Grimmauld Place. Albus Dumbledore would usually relay any important information to her and hence she'd only find herself there when her skills as a healer were needed. And restocking the medical supplies was easy- Severus took care of it. He'd go through the shelves, decide what was needed and brew it along with whatever he was already making for the school.

Of course, none of that was possible anymore.

The house was peaceful at the moment, most of the members either at work or otherwise going on about their normal lives. She was pretty sure Remus was upstairs napping, but she hadn't actually seen the man. Either way, she was so absorbed in her task and in the peacefulness of the house that she didn't even register the quiet 'pop' behind her.

It was the panicked House Elf that began screeching "Mistress Madame Pomfrey, help! Please, mistress must come to Hogwarts!" that made her nearly drop the bottles she was holding. She turned around and stared at the small creature, who was now rambling on at an incredible speed.

"- Dobby was in the kitchens and then suddenly there was a 'boom' and when he gets to the Great Hall, Master Harry is not opening his eyes and neither is Mistress Hermione-"

The second she heard Harry's name, Madame Pomfrey was already moving towards the door. She grabbed her travel cloak from where it was thrown over a chair in the hallway and took her wand out. Moments later, she was running as fast as she could through the Hogwarts gates and up the path to the castle.

Later, she might stop and wonder just why the front doors to the castle were unlocked in the middle of summer vacation and why they seemed to spring open at her touch, but Madame Pomfrey had no room for such thoughts as she sprinted towards the Great Hall. The Great Hall doors were already opened when she arrived and the healer took a few moments to lean against them heavily and catch her breath. Her face was red from exertion and her breath came in short, wheezy pants.

Inside the Great Hall, she found Firenze was already present and leaning over Harry. Hermione laid further back, just in front of the Head Table. A severely shaking Ron was kneeling beside her and frantically hovering over her- appearing to desperately want to do something, yet not daring to lest she break. Even from a distance, Madame Pomfrey could see he too looked incredibly pale.

But at least he was conscious, which was more than could be said for his friends.

* * *

He parked his car a block away from his destination and walked the rest of the way. Judging by the number of cars parked out side Finance Minister Norman Callaghan's house, most of those invited to the secret meeting must've already arrived.

Prime Minister Anthony Davidson felt a twinge of guilt at being one the last to arrive to something he himself had instigated. However, his nerves quickly smothered down the feeling. His hand was shaking as he rang the doorbell.

"Aaah, Anthony!" Norman exclaimed with a wide grin as he opened the door. "Welcome, welcome- for a moment there, we'd almost thought you'd gotten cold feet."

Anthony cringed. "I'm not that late, am I?"

"Actually, it's more that the rest of us were too brimming with curiosity to sit still, so we came early," an elderly voice answered from the entrance to Norman's living room. Anthony recognized the voice immediately: it was the Minister of the Home Office, Stephen Hathaway.

"Minister Hathaway," the Prime Minister greeted him. The older man nodded back with an amused twinkle in his eye. Anthony turned back to the Finance Minister. "Does that mean everyone's here already?"

"Nope, we're still waiting on a few. Come in and have a drink in the meantime. You look like you could use it."

"Thank you."

The pleasant murmur of voices that had been coming from the living room stopped the moment he entered the room. Anticipation clung to the room like static electricity and he knew that everyone now had eyes and ears only for him. He cleared his throat.

"Ehem, yes, well thank you all for coming on such short notice," he said with a practiced smile. "I'm sure most of you had much better things to do on a Friday night than stare at me some more."

There were a few chuckles as Norman handed him a glass of bourbon. Then the doorbell rang.

"Uh, I think it would be best if we wait for everyone to arrive," the Prime Minister continued. "I'm afraid what I have to tell is fantastic enough as it is without me having to repeat it several times."

A few of the people around him gave him odd looks at the last remark. He sighed- for all the good it would do, he figured he might as well warn them now. He put down his briefcase and took out his old laptop. As it was starting up, General Tanya Baker walked into the room, greeting everyone in her usual gruff manner.

The last person to arrive was, ironically enough, the Leader of the Opposition, Lionel Petticoat. He entered in a wave of loud gestures and sincere apologies, quoting something about his eldest daughter getting married in a week as his excuse for being late. Once everyone was settled in, the Prime Minister stood up and faced them.

"Once again, thank you for coming everyone," he began. He took a deep breath and met everyone's eyes as he spoke. "I think you all know why I've called this meeting and first of all- for what it's worth- I'd like to apologize to you for keeping quiet about what I know. Really, I suppose I owe the whole country an apology, but I guess this'll have to do for now."

"So, the government really does know what's going on!" the Leader of the Opposition cried.

The Prime Minister raised a hand for silence. "No, not the government. Just me."

"But-"

"Please, I promise you, Mr. Petticoat, I will endeavour to explain everything I know, which granted isn't everything, but at least it's more than you know now." The Opposition Leader looked at him through narrowed eyes, but said nothing. "I also beg that you hear me out completely. Because, you see, I know what I know, which is what I was told. But I have almost no way to prove it. In fact, I only have one shred of genuine proof to give you and that's this."

He now turned around his laptop, which he'd had positioned on top of the Finance Minister's television facing the wall. On the screen was the first of the pictures he'd gotten earlier in the day thanks to Connie Price's journalistic instincts.

"Ladies and gentlemen, this country is currently at war. A war, which has been escalating for the past two years without the knowledge of the majority of the populace." He pointed to the blurry picture on the screen. "These are the enemy; they're called Death Eaters. Wizards."

There were several minutes of absolute silence. And then the room exploded in noise. Anthony Davidson sighed. It was going to be a long night.

* * *

Somewhere in London, an annoyed-looking Illyria walked out of an all-night convenience store. She stalked up to a disgruntled Spike and handed him something flat and made of paper. The blond vampire glared at her, but took it anyway.

The dim light from a nearby street lamp just barely illuminated the object, revealing big bold letters that read 'City of London'. Spike slowly, reluctantly, unravelled the map and began to study it.

Fifteen minutes later, an angry yell was heard.

"What the bloody hell did Andrew mean, it's by the river?! It's nowhere near the bloomin' river!"

There was a minute of silence.

"Oh. There's a River Street nearby."

Illyria didn't bother looking at him. She just rolled her eyes.

* * *

You may have noticed there is a distinct lack of Buffy characters in this chapter (except for the two lost souls at the end). That's because they're all in the second part. Lots more will happen, so stay tuned. And, in the meantime, please review!

Author's Notes:

**The Road Less Travelled **- I borrowed the title from a poem of the same name by Robert Frost. It's mostly referring to the PM's actions and, as you'll see in the second part, those of the Watcher's Council.

**Dio Aurguros**- Let it be known, I most certainly am NOT an Ancient Greek scholar, or even a student, so if this isn't quite right, please forgive me. From what I can figure out using the wonderful Perseus-Tufts online dictionary, this should mean roughly what Hermione said it did: 'godlike or gods' silver'. Obviously it doesn't exist anywhere in the HP or Buffy universe.

**Ministers, ect**.- Just random people I came up with in order to serve my purpose for that particular scene. Other than the PM, the only other person who may be coming back is General Baker. I'm not even sure if we'll see the Finance Minister again. In case you were wondering, that's why I've kept referring to everybody by their titles as well as their names- the PM would probably be thinking of them using their names, but I figured this way would make it less confusing for the readers.


	10. Chapter 9 pt 2

Sorry, took me a bit longer than I thought it would to get this part up, but it's still a faster update than usual, lol. Anyway, thanks to **Gwen** and **LadySunflower **for their beta skills and to everyone who reviewed.

The next chapter will likely take a while to get written since I have another fic I really need to work on first. Reviews might motivate me to write faster, though.

* * *

-1**The Prophecy of the Four**

**Chapter 10- **The Road Less Travelled Pt.2

It wasn't quite six a.m. when the Prime Minister of Britain dragged himself out of the Finance Minister's house and down the street to his car. Just as he'd been one of the last to arrive for the meeting, he was now the last to leave, along with General Baker. She had been giving him a thoughtful look for the past hour or so. As they were leaving, the tall, dark-skinned woman stopped him.

"Prime Minister?" she said.

"Yes, General?"

"I was wondering what you wanted me to do about your 'secretary'? Should I have someone keep an eye on him?"

"Um, no. I think that would prove unnecessary and rather pointless, since from what I gather these wizards can move instantly from one place to another using magic. I may not like the Minister of Magic very much at the moment, but I truly believe he has no ill intentions towards me."

"I see."

"I want to keep this arrangement as secret as possible, at least until we see what the reaction to Connie Price's article will be - assuming there will be an article. Someone tailing Shacklebolt would look suspicious."

"Very well, Prime Minister. I shall make the necessary arrangements and contact you sometime next week."

"Thank you; I wish you luck. And have a good weekend."

"You as well, Prime Minister."

With those words, they walked out of the house and parted ways as their cars happened to be parked on opposite sides of the street. Anthony searched the morning sky for traces of the sun and found it obscured by clouds, but still visible. He smiled wearily and began the walk to his car.

It had been a long night. A very, very long night. But Anthony felt calmer than he had in a long time. It had taken him a good hour just to convince everyone he wasn't clinically insane. In the end, it was the e-mail and photos from Connie that had made them listen - or at least give his sanity the benefit of the doubt.

Oh, and Minister of Transportation, Cedric Wright, apparently had a niece in France, who was attending some sort of 'special school' neither she nor her parents would talk about and who, despite being a rather bright young girl, was often found to be ignorant of some of the most basic things, such as literature, history and geography. He said this was surprising in view of how her parents insisted she was one of the best in her class (he had always just assumed they were exaggerating in the way parents sometimes do).

Yes, Wright's confession had also helped.

It also annoyed Anthony - if there were schools and Ministries of Magic in other European countries, then why was Britain the only one with such large-scale problems?!

He sighed and dug his car keys out of his pocket.

Once inside the car, he took a few moments to slump against the steering wheel. He took several deep breaths and then sat up. The meeting had gone well and they had come up with a tentative plan of action. Or at least enough of a plan that he could talk to Connie this afternoon with something pretending to be confidence.

He yawned as he started the car.

* * *

Vi yawned loudly. Then she went back to staring into space with bleary, half-lidded eyes. Eventually, she seemed to realize the mug of coffee in front of her was meant to be drunk, and took a sip.

"'Morning," mumbled Gwen from behind her as she wandered into the kitchen.

Vi grunted and raised a hand in greeting. Gwen poured herself some coffee and sat down beside the other girl. She closed her eyes and inhaled the blessed caffeine fumes.

"Mmm, coffee..." she said with a dreamy smile. Vi giggled and Gwen turned to her, raising an eyebrow at her. "What exactly are you doing up before ten?"

"I don't know," she answered in utter seriousness. "I had this weird dream and then couldn't fall back asleep."

"Oh?"

"All I remember was lookin' at that pickle building again and then suddenly there were men in black robes and I think someone might've been in danger..."

Gwen put down her coffee and stared at Vi.

"I had a similar dream two nights ago," she said with wide eyes, which turned thoughtful several seconds later. "Only there was a shop and some girl laying on the ground. And the robed guys - oh! And some girl with odd clothes, but wicked pink hair."

"Pink hair?"

"Yeah, it was, like, bubble gum pink!"

Vi thought about that for a moment.

"Nope, don't think there was any pink-haired girl in my dream."

"Too bad. But still, don't you think it's weird, us having similar dreams? I mean, you don't suppose it's a Slayer Dream, do you?"

"Hmm, don't know. Buffy said if we ever have one of those we'd just 'know'."

"I guess. My dream didn't particularly feel important. But, do you think we should tell Giles anyway?"

"Um, I guess -"

As if to prove a point, Giles chose that exact moment to rush into the kitchen. He didn't even seem to notice the two girls sitting at the kitchen table as he reached for the kettle and began preparing his morning tea in a whirlwind of motion.

Less than a minute later, he was out the door again while the kettle warmed on the stovetop. Vi and Gwen exchanged bewildered looks.

"Woah, was my eye deceived or was that dark, four-eyed blur really Giles?" asked Xander, stepping into the kitchen.

"I think it was," Gwen.

"It definitely looked like Mr. Giles," Vi agreed.

"Yo, it probably has something to do with the fuckin' phone ringing an hour ago," Faith said, stretching as she followed Xander into the room.

"New info, maybe?" Xander suggested.

"It had better be, yo, 'cause I was kinda enjoying being not awake."

Just as the kettle began to whistle, Giles bounded back into the kitchen carrying a stack of maps. He poured the boiling water into a waiting teapot. Then he began to unfold the first map. Suddenly, something whizzed past him and Giles jumped back. He stared at the knife now embedded in the wooden kitchen countertop for several moments, before turning around to face the table. He blinked at the four other people in the room, as if confused

At the table, Gwen and Vi stared up at Faith in horror. Faith, on the other hand, had her hands on her hips and a mischievous twinkle in her eyes as she grinned cockily at the head of the Watcher's Council. Behind her, Xander was hiding his laughter behind his hand.

"Yo, G-man," said Faith. "What's with this new ignoring us thing? There a fire or something?"

"Yeah, I've seen you calmer at apocalypses," Xander joked. Then he paused, his face becoming momentarily panicked. "There isn't another apocalypse, is there?"

"Don't call me that," said Giles. "And no, other than Dawn's mystery one, I have no knowledge of any apocalypses." He sighed and placed the map onto the stack on the counter. "I'm sorry, I wasn't intentionally ignoring you. The coven finally called me back this morning."

"Oh, so you really do have new info!" said Vi excitedly.

"Yes, I'm not entirely sure how useful it will be, but I do have a few new leads."

"Sweet!"

Giles smiled slightly and turned around to pour himself a cup of tea.

"So, did the coven know where to find Dawn?" Faith asked.

"Well, not as such. The head of the coven said she had to dig through some of their older archives in order to find anything of use. Apparently, they historically never had much contact with wizards -"

Just then the back door swung open and a tired and Lori walked into the kitchen, looking rather tired and glistening with sweat in her pink and grey jogging suit. Buffy walked in two steps behind her - not looking nearly as tired or sweaty despite the circles around her eyes.

"Good morning everyone!" Lori exclaimed with a wide smile. A chorus of 'good morning's answered her.

"Yes, good morning," said Giles. "You went out for a morning jog?"

"Yup! After that wretched telephone woke me up, I couldn't fall back asleep again. And since I've been feeling rather miserable lately, I decided to clear my head with a healthy morning jog."

"I couldn't sleep either," Buffy chirped in. "And this whole 'clearing my head' and 'getting cheery' thing sounded like a pretty good idea."

Everyone in the kitchen chuckled. As Lori went over to the sink to pour herself a glass of water, she noticed the maps sitting on the counter. She raised an eyebrow and looked to Giles.

"What's this?" she asked. "You lost your way?"

"No, that call this morning was from the coven leader."

"Oh?" Lori perked up. "Anything useful?"

"I'm not sure yet, but quite possibly yes. She basically confirmed what Buffy had found out, saying there is indeed a rather large community of wizards in England. She mentioned something about there being a magical shopping district in London on a street called Diagon Alley -"

"Yo, hold on a sec," Faith interrupted. "How big is this district? 'Cause, yo, I could swear we've been through this entire city, but I ain't heard about no magical shopping mall."

"I second that," said Buffy. "I so have a sixth sense for shopping malls. Magical or not, if there was on, I'd find it."

"Could it be hidden with magic?" Xander asked.

"Yes, that's what I've been thinking," Giles said. "However, unless it somehow exists in another dimension, then it should still be visible on a map if only by omission. Apparently, wizards here tend to keep to themselves and have very limited contact with outsiders so there might not be a whole lot of information in the library."

"Woah! You mean books don't have all the answers!" Xander exclaimed in mock horror. Giles glared at him.

"Okay, so why do you have several maps of England here as well?" Lori asked as she leafed through the stack of maps. Giles turned to her.

"Well, the coven leader also found mention of a magical village - possibly an all-wizard village - called Hogsmeade."

"Hogsmeade?" Xander repeated with a mischievous look in his eye. There was a long pause.

"Yo, Cyclops, you gonna make a joke there or what?" Faith demanded.

"Give me a minute, I'm thinking!"

"I think you overthunk it already," Gwen commented.

"You know," Lori began, thoughtfully, "that name sounds rather familiar. But I'm not entirely sure where I've heard it."

"Really?" Giles said. Lori nodded.

"I think it was in a book somewhere..."

"Well then, could try going through the library and figure out where you've heard of Hogsmeade before?"

She nodded. "Of course."

Giles turned to the others. "Xander, try and see if you can find anything online. Buffy, Faith, would you like to help me study these maps? Gwen, Vi, please go wake up the rest of the slayers. When we've figured out possible locations for this shopping district, we'll be sending out search teams to investigate."

And so, everyone set out to complete their appointed tasks.

* * *

Anthony Davidson looked both ways before entering the park. He wiped his sweaty palms on the light-weight khakis he was wearing before adjusting his navy blue baseball cap so that the brim lined up perfectly with his dark sunglasses.

The last thing he needed right now was to get noticed. He took a deep breath and headed, casually, for 'their' bench.

The park wasn't very full. On such a cloudy, depressing day most people probably didn't feel like venturing out, he supposed. A few joggers passed by him as well as a pack of rollerbladers and a few strollers. By the lake he saw an old man sitting on a bench reading the newspaper.

She was already there when he arrived. He stopped when he spotted her and just observed her for a while. It felt nostalgic - they used to meet here all the time back when they were seeing each other and no matter what he did she always managed to arrive first. Their sixth month anniversary had been the only exception and that was because he'd come half an hour early.

Connie Price turned her head and saw him. Anthony quickly began walking again, hoping she didn't know how long he'd been standing there. She stood up as he approached and held out her hand. Something inside him cringed at the professional greeting even as he took the offered hand and shook it.

"Hello, Anthony," she said with a smile. "It's good to see you again. I'm glad you agreed to see me. Thank you."

"It's good to see you too, Connie," he replied. "But you realize most of what I have to say will have to be off-the-record."

"Or from an anonymous source from inside the Prime Minister's Office? Yes, I was rather expecting that."

"Sorry. It's just that, well, I shouldn't be talking about this at all, you see -"

"So why are you then?"

He paused, thinking about his reply.

"Because I've had enough of watching horrible things happen in this country and not being able to do anything about it. No, not being _allowed_ to do anything about it. It's rather frustrating getting blamed for something you have no control over when your hands are tied and unable to do anything to so much as fix things."

Connie was now watching him with narrowed eyes and he could tell she was paying attention to his every word even if she couldn't write it down. Damn, he'd forgotten for a moment that she wasn't just his ex-girlfriend, but a reporter. When he didn't continue, she reached into her purse and pulled out prints of the same photographs she'd sent him via e-mail.

"Alright then, now I realize you wouldn't be here talking to me right now if these were just an immature prank, but I still need to hear you confirm it. Are these real?"

"Yes, I believe so."

"So, you're not sure?"

"Well, I wasn't there and none of the officials who were at the scene later reported seeing anything like this, so I can't be completely certain -"

"None of the witnesses reported seeing anything either, so why do you think they're real?"

"Well, I have access to certain, um, classified information."

"Are the police and rescue teams also aware of said information?"

"No. Absolutely not."

"Who does know?"

"Only a select group of government officials. I'm afraid that's all I can say without putting anyone at risk."

"And the gas pipe explosions?"

Anthony blinked at her. "What?"

"The official explanation for all the recent incidents is faults in the gas pipe system resulting in explosions. I've had some professionals look into the evidence and they agree that it's highly unlikely that the damage was caused by an exploding gas pipe. So is that just a cover story?"

"Oh, uh, yes. Yes, we felt it was the best explanation that wouldn't raise too many unnecessary questions."

Anthony momentarily found himself wondering whose idea that had been in the first place. Connie paused for a moment, thinking.

"Who are they?" she finally asked, motioning to the figures in the pictures.

Anthony took a deep breath and prayed he remembered it correctly.

* * *

Buffy sat outside on the porch with her cell phone at her ear and waited, listening to it ring on the other side. Finally, someone answered.

_"Hell- ehem, ciao this is-"_

"Hey Andrew," Buffy cut him off. There was a pause.

_"Oh, hello Buffy. How are things in England? Is Dawn safe and sound or is the situation so dire that you need me to rush over to your aid -"_

"No. On both counts. Just stay in Italy for now."

_"Oh, okay then." _Another pause. _"But, Dawn is alright...right?"_

Buffy sighed tiredly. "I don't know. We have no idea where she is. I'm calling to let you know I'm not coming back anytime soon. I'm not leaving until I find her and hurt every single person who hurt her." The hand not holding her cell clenched tightly.

_"Well, you're amazing, Buffy, I'm sure you'll find her and vanquish the supremely evil person responsible."_

Buffy snorted and relaxed her fist. Suddenly, something occurred to her.

"Listen, Andrew, do you know anything about wizards?"

_"Wizards? Um, not really. I think there's an underground community of wizards in L.A., but they're kinda exclusive in their membership -"_

"Not in L.A., here in England. Or at least Europe, anyway. Apparently, there's supposed to be a huge community, complete with its own Big Bad Wizard."

_"Oh, uh, I'm not sure. My information base was strictly American - me and the boys liked to stick to our own territory. But that's weird, you know. It's exactly what he asked about too. About wizards, I mean. And some sort of evil dark lord..." _Andrew sounded thoughtful. Buffy frowned.

"Who asked?"

"Huh? Oh, uh, ehe s-sorry, I was just, uh, thinking out loud, babbling to myself, you know -"

"_Who _asked about the wizards, Andrew?"

She could practically feel him cringe, which only made her more determined to find out what he was hiding. From experience, she knew that anything Andrew felt he needed to hide tended to be fairly crucial. Or at least it meant he'd done something stupid that would come bite them all in the ass at a future date.

"J-just a friend."

"Andrew, your friends are dead. Try again."

"W-well, he kinda asked me not to -"

"ANDREW!"

There was a moment of silence.

"Spike," came the whispered reply. Buffy nearly dropped the phone.

* * *

Anthony felt very proud of himself as he finished his tale; he'd done it. Despite working on only two and a half hours of sleep and three cups of coffee, he'd managed to remember the story he and his colleagues had put together at four o'clock this morning.

Connie was silent for a while.

"Okay," she finally said. "Let me make sure I've got this right... So, you're saying that the recent string of accidents and strange deaths is being caused by a group of religious terrorists, who call themselves Death Eaters? And these terrorists have access to some incredibly advanced technology, which they've been using to wipe out all proof of their existence, including people's memories?"

"Yes, that is correct."

"I see. Why has the government kept this secret until now?"

"Well, first of all, we didn't want to needlessly alarm the public when we weren't quite sure what we were dealing with. Especially since, other than the obvious, the weapons they've been using to erase people's memories seem to have had no residual side-effects. Secondly, the terrorists have been taking great pains to remain hidden. We've been afraid that going public would only serve to aggravate them and prompt them to initiate something on a much larger scale since any further discretion would be pointless."

"That brings me back to my original question, if you're afraid for the safety of the public, why are you coming forward now?"

"The attacks have increased in both number and severity. It's gotten to the point where we have to take the risk, because ignorance is only hurting people more."

"I see. So, what's being done to stop them?"

"Uh, I'm afraid I can't say exactly. It would jeopardize the efforts. But suffice to say, there are quite a lot of people working very hard to fight these terrorists."

There was a pause, during which Connie collected her thoughts and Anthony resisted the urge to fidget. He waited with bated breath for her reaction. She just sat there, staring at him.

"_Anthony_," she said. He winced. It was 'the voice'.

"Y-yes?" he answered and cursed inwardly - she'd been testing him.

Connie sighed.

"You may be a fairly good politician, but you should know better than to try and lie to me. If you recall, your own mother taught me how to read the signs."

"What?!" he exclaimed, staring at her in surprise. Suddenly something made so much sense. "So that's where you learned to use that tone of voice!"

She blinked at him.

"You didn't know?"

"No!"

He looked away. He knew he was pouting, but he didn't care as he grumbled about interfering mothers. Connie laughed. For a moment, the tension around them lifted. Then, the intrepid reporter cleared her throat and fixed him with a hard look.

"Anyway, you're not changing the subject that easily. I want the truth."

Anthony sighed. Maybe he really should've just feigned ignorance. Still, it would all be worth the look on Fudge's face when he saw the article.

"You won't believe the truth," he said. "It actually sounds more made-up than the official explanation."

"The terrorists are the 'official explanation'?"

"Yes, as of four a.m. this morning."

She stared at him. "You realize you now have no choice but to tell me. My curiosity wouldn't let you sleep."

He chuckled, knowing the truth in that statement. "Alright, but first you have to turn off the voice recorder."

She did as he asked and, in return, he told her everything. She remained silent, listening to his tale with wide eyes. He finished and she blinked slowly several times.

"See, I told you it was unbelievable."

"So you did."

Neither one said anything for quite some time. They merely sat in silence. Anthony closed his eyes and rubbed his temples - lack of sleep was beginning to catch up to him with a vengeance.

"You know, if you do end up getting kicked out of office, you could always write a book," Connie suddenly said. Anthony's eyes flew open and he looked up at her. She smiled at him, a teasing glint in her eyes. "Could make you millions."

He snorted.

"I somehow doubt it would make it to the publishers."

"What do you mean? Wait, you don't think the wizards would actually try and stop it?"

"Why not? They've been erasing the memories of everyone who's come into contact with them so far?"

"But that's censorship!" Connie looked outraged. "This is a democratic country. They have no right to decide what we're allowed to do or say! Especially when they're not even participating in our society."

Anthony couldn't help but laugh at her outburst.

"You know, I'd love to introduce you to Fudge." Suddenly he blinked twice and his eyes widened. "Hang on, you actually believe me?!"

She shrugged. "I told you, I know you very well. You don't have the imagination to come up with something this crazy."

"Oh."

She was silent for a while.

"You're right though, no one would believe this. But to knowingly publish something that isn't true goes against everything journalism stands for." She paused. "On the other hand, I imagine I couldn't get anyone to corroborate the wizard story."

"You'd likely just get your memory erased by one of their magical policemen."

"It's like _Men in Black _only without the aliens."

"Something like that."

There was more silence. Then Connie slowly stood up. Anthony also rose to his feet. She held her hand out to him and with a warm smile. He shook the offered hand and smiled back.

"Well, it really was good to see you," she said. "But I've got a story to work on. You've given me a lot to think about and I'm not sure exactly how I'll decide yet, but you'll be the first to know when I do."

"Thank you. And you're right, I'm glad we met again. Even if it was for business."

And with that they each went their separate ways.

* * *

A loud, frustrated yell echoed through the Watcher's Council library. A chair clattered to the ground. Giles sighed and began to clean his glasses.

"That's it, I give up!" Xander exclaimed, glaring murderously at the computer. He turned, fully intending to childishly stomp away from the stupid machine, when he nearly tripped over the same chair he'd just knocked over. He glared at the chair.

Giles put his glasses back on.

"I take it your search wasn't very successful?" he asked calmly. Xander sat down at the cluttered library table and pouted.

"No," he answered and grabbed a sandwich from the platter one of the younger slayers had brought in earlier. "I mean, it's not even that there's no useful information to be had. It's like the damn town doesn't even exist! And this Diagon Alley? Ditto."

"That is odd - oh Lori, have you found it?"

Xander took a bite out of his sandwich and then leaned his head backwards to look at where Lori had just walked out from behind a bookcase with a large tome in her hands. He immediately perked up, recognizing the book as one of the Watcher's Diaries. It had come as quite the pleasant surprise when they had realized the Watcher's Council had made about a dozen copies of each diary over the years and therefore they hadn't all been destroyed along with Sunnydale and the old council's building.

"Yeah, I think I found the reference I'd been thinking of," said Lori after a slight hesitation. "Unfortunately, no luck. It was for something different."

"Oh, how so?"

"Well, in 1634, a young watcher named Alphonse Merivale Wyndam-Pryce claimed to have come across a forest dense with supernatural presence and a castle -"

"Wyndam-Pryce?" Xander interrupted. "As in Wesley's great, great, great grandfather or something?"

"Well, the Wyndam-Pryce family has been an integral part of the Watcher's Council for a very long time. I believe it may even have been one of the founding members of the British headquarters."

"Wow, that's pretty cool, yo," said Faith from where she was sitting at the far end of the table. She was browsing through a book of historical maps, with her legs up on the table and balancing on the back two legs of her chair. "No wonder Wes was so gun-ho about the council."

"Aaanyway, as I was saying -" Lori looked up from the book to glare at them and all of them- including Giles- had the decency to look a bit sheepish. "It seems he was missing for about three days and was eventually found wandering through a field in a daze with almost no memories of those three days. All he remembered was the forest and castle- wait, there was a lake too and a creature that lived in the lake..." She was silent for a moment as she read the passage again. Eventually she shook her head. "Nevermind, apparently he never quite managed to recollect his memories completely or find the place again."

"So there was no town?" Xander asked.

"No, but the castle's name was supposedly Hogwarts."

"Hogwarts?" Giles thought about that for a while before shaking his head. "No, that doesn't sound familiar."

"Doesn't to me either and it seems his peers didn't believe it existed at all."

"But, yo, we already know that these wizards can mess with memories, so it totally could've been them," Faith piped up.

"Yeah, I mean someone disappears for three days and then poofs back with no memories except for a weird magical castle... " Xander agreed. "In Sunnydale they'd probably send him to the nearest shrink, but this is the Watcher's Council, the experts on all things wiggy."

"Yes, and they did investigate the matter - to an extent. But the thing is that when he was found, he was holding several flowers whose pollen and scent have hallucinogenic properties."

"Oh."

"Damn."

"But they could've been given to him by the wizards to make the Watcher's Council doubt him," Giles commented.

"True. However, it also could've been someone else entirely -"

The door to the library slammed open and Buffy stepped through. She crossed her arms in front of her and glared at the group, anger flowing from her in steady waves. Xander and the others blinked and exchanged confused looks.

"You knew," Buffy said in a hard, accusing voice. "You all knew and didn't tell me."

More confused looks. Faith frowned and swung her legs off the table, as she put her book down.

"Yo, B, don't suppose you wanna give us a hint of what it is we know here, 'cause I'm drawing a blank here."

Buffy turned to her. "You and Xander were in L.A. helping Angel with the demon army. That means you saw them. I can kinda understand Andrew's not wanting to tell me, 'cause he asked him to keep quiet and God knows Andrew practically worships the guy - but you two? Why the hell didn't you tell me he was alive?"

"Oh," Xander said, suddenly understanding the situation. "You mean Spike."

"Yes, Spike!" She paused and took a deep breath. "I realize none of you liked him, but he was an important member of the team and-"

"Woah, hold it B." Faith stood up. "Why don't you chill a bit. We didn't exactly hate him, yo. Well, I had nothing against him, in any case; got along just fine, in fact. Other than that whole throwing you out incident, I mean. We only just found out he was still alive."

"And you didn't tell me!" Buffy walked up to them and slammed her hands on the table, making it shake.

"Buff, it's not like we were keeping it a secret -" Xander piped in.

"Then what were you doing?!"

"Searching for Dawn, in case you've forgotten!"

They all looked to Giles, a bit surprised at his abrupt tone. He was looking at Buffy with eyes that could pierce through titanium. Buffy's eyes widened momentarily at his words and her anger seemed to calm a bit.

"He's right, Buff," Xander tried again. "We didn't not tell you 'cause we didn't want you to know - it just never came up. Ever since you got here, we've all been trying our hardest to find Dawn. Spike's in New York or whatever and has nothing to do with this."

The library was silent for a few moments. Finally, Buffy sighed.

"He does now," she said softly.

"Huh?"

Buffy turned away from Giles and looked to everyone.

"I just talked to Andrew. Apparently, Spike's on his way to London - or maybe he's here already. I don't know."

"Why? I thought he didn't want you to know he was back," Giles asked.

"Andrew says Spike called him about a week ago, asking about wizards." She paused and held up a hand to stop anyone from commenting. "And not just any wizards, but a dark lord and his merry band of minions, who are apparently causing trouble all over."

"Did he know the wizard's name?"

"Yeah, but Andrew couldn't remember, except that he thinks it starts with a 'V'. Oh, and his minions call themselves 'Death Eaters' and wear black robes with white masks."

"Death Eaters? You're kidding me, yo? If that's what he calls his minions, can't wait to find out what he calls himself!"

"Yeah, they sound like a bunch of bad comic book villains."

"In any case, it sounds like this Spike has quite a bit more information than we do," Lori spoke up, finally feeling the situation had calmed down enough for her to comment.

Buffy nodded. "Yeah."

"So, what do we do then?"

Giles thought for a moment. "Lori, this castle you mentioned, where did Alphonse say he found it?"

"Um, if it exists it would be somewhere in Scotland."

"Huh? Castle?" Buffy asked, confused at the change of topic.

"A magical castle one of Wes's great, great, great relatives found that might've just be a figment of his imagination," Xander answered.

"Is it important?"

"We don't know," Giles said and turned to Xander. "Xander -"

"See if I can dig up Hogwarts on the net? I'm already googlin'!" With that the brunette got up - swiped another sandwich - and headed back to the computer. Giles turned back to Buffy.

"Any thoughts on what to do about Spike?"

Buffy thought for a moment.

"Well, he's got info we need and he's looking for us. If we tell the girls going out on patrol tonight to keep an eye out for him, we might find him faster. Sending someone all the way out to Scotland chasing an invisible, magicky goose that might not exist could be too risky. So, how 'bout we concentrate on finding this Dragon Alley and give Spike a day or so to get here?"

Giles looked to the others.

"I'll second that plan, yo," said Faith with a shrug.

"Sounds reasonable enough to me," Lori agreed. "Provided he gets here within the next day or so."

"Very well, then it's agreed. Wait to see what news Spike brings us before looking past London."

* * *

It was a calm night. Only a slight breeze blew - just enough to make the otherwise warm night seem somewhat chilly. A waning moon shone just above the trees of the Forbidden Forest, although the dim light probably never actually reached past the dense branches of the tallest trees. But Ron wasn't paying any attention to the shadows in the forest. In fact, from where he sat on the steps of Hogwarts, he probably could only barely see them at best.

Instead, his head rested in his hands as he stared up at the brightly shining stars, which seemed to invite him to share the night, rather than scare him away.

He'd been the first to wake up earlier in the afternoon. Madame Pomfrey had told him- with an incredibly displeased look on her face - that if not for the house elves, there could've been permanent damage, possibly even death. Harry and Hermione were still unconscious. It was nearing midnight and Ron still felt a little shaky, but he wasn't tired.

Although, he really should have been after his mother and the twins ambushed him shortly after he'd woken up. Predictably, his mother was furious that they'd put themselves in such danger and Ron had had to make up a story about a new spell they'd been trying out, because they thought it might help them in the fight against He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Madame Pomfrey clearly hadn't been fooled, but for some reason, she'd remained silent.

Luckily, there was an Order meeting tonight and so everyone left after dinner. However, not before promising there'd be someone from the Order coming back to check up on them the next day.

Ron sighed. It was going to become more difficult to anything without anyone knowing about it now.

"I doubt Madame Pomfrey would be pleased to see you out here, Mr. Weasley," a voice said behind him. Ron jumped. He looked behind him and nodded to the centaur that stood there.

"I just wanted some fresh air," he rasped and shrugged. "S' not like the wind's going to make me any worse."

Thanks to Madame Pomfrey's expert healing skills he could now talk without feeling like every word was made of molten lava, but his voice was still only a whisper.

"No, but you probably should be resting."

"I was resting for over half a day."

The centaur said nothing. He just looked up to the heavens. For several minutes, neither of them spoke.

"The stars are bright tonight," Firenze finally broke the silence.

"Yeah," said Ron. "There's so many of them too. Makes me wonder if they really do know everything - about the future I mean. It would really be nice to know that one day, all this pain, everything we're doing, will be worth it. That we're going to win in the end."

"The stars do not mean to encourage, nor to dissuade. They never give a definite answer."

"What are they saying tonight?"

Firenze paused for moment to study the boy. Then he looked back to sky and concentrated on the stars. It was almost half an hour later that he finally spoke again.

"The stars tell a troubling tale, young Weasley," he began, startling Ron out of his almost-asleep daze. "They speak of great disaster, and the awakening of ancient powers. I see the approach of a destroyer and there are others with him, but I cannot see who they are. Difficult times lay ahead - the stars tell me of danger we know not of, yet will have to face before the battle's done."

He looked back to Ron, who was staring up at him with wide eyes.

"A destroyer? You mean You-Know-Who? Or are you saying there's someone new joining him?"

"That I cannot tell. The stars only give answers that make sense to them."

Ron snorted. There were a few moments of silence interrupted by the sounds of rustling grass.

"Harry met someone in Hogsmeade a couple of weeks ago," Ron suddenly said. Firenze looked down at him in surprise, but Ron was still looking off into the distance. "She sounds like a complete nuttier - loonier than Trelwany even. But, she called herself a prophet and told Harry that the stars are fickle, that they hide the truth behind clouds."

Now Ron looked back to Firenze.

"Is that right? Do the stars really only tell 'alf the story?"

The centaur pondered for a moment, wondering who in the world this 'prophet' could be. Finally, he answered.

"I have never had reason to doubt what the stars say. But, I suppose, you could say they only tell us what they want to, or perhaps, what they are permitted to. After all, human beings are creatures not meant to see too far into the future."

"So, she really might not be human!" Firenze blinked in confusion, but didn't interrupt Ron's rant. "Hermione was right! And if she's not human then maybe the prophecies really are true!"

"Prophecies?"

Ron suddenly jumped up and ran back into the castle. He paused and turned around just before he completely disappeared through the doors.

"Goodnight Firenze!" he said with a smile. "And thanks!"

"You're welcome, Mr. Weasley."

The boy never heard the response, since the doors had already closed behind him. Firenze shook his head in amusement. These human children had so much unnecessary energy.

Then the centaur turned his eyes back to the midnight skies and wondered about the boy's words. His eyes widened slightly as he did, in fact, notice several clouds obscuring the night sky.

* * *

It was cold. So cold. It felt as if her entire body was frozen within a block of ice - a coldness that permeated her body and left nothing untouched. It was painful, yet her limbs were so cold they were numb. An eternity seemed to pass and all she could feel was the ice coffin surrounding her and all she could see was darkness. Complete, undisturbed darkness.

And then, suddenly, like the Star of Bethlehem, a glimmer of light appeared. And from that light warmth began to spread. Slowly, it melted the black ice around her and wrapped her in a soft blanket of light.

_Hermione opened her eyes. She smiled at the familiar room, always so full of warmth and light. A wonderful aroma entered her nostrils. Scones; probably blueberry. She turned around in her chair and leaned back against the wooden table she was sitting at. The old woman at the kitchen counter was pouring hot water into the tea pot. She placed the kettle down and grabbed a pair of pink plaid oven mitts. _

_"Are they done yet, grandma?" Hermione asked her._

_The old woman smiled at her. "Yes, they're done," she said as she opened the oven door and took out a cookie sheet full of scones. "Why don't you set the table."_

_"Sure thing, grandma."_

_Hermione hopped off the chair and went to work. She took two silver spoons out from the mahogany cabinet in the corner of the room - because her grandmother always used the good silver for tea. Then she picked two flowered bone chine tea cups from the collection and then took the butter dish and milk from the fridge. Lastly, she got the prepared tea pot from the counter and placed it onto the table beside the crystal vase filled with flowers. Strangely enough, it didn't seem as heavy as usual._

_She sat back down and waited. Hermione sighed in contentment. She loved tea time at her grandma's place. The month she spent here every summer since she could remember were some of her best memories. The house was small and cozy, yet always full of sunlight and flowers. And books. There wasn't a single room in the house that didn't have books of some sort in it. There were shelves of cookbooks in the kitchen, rows of large, hardcover ornate classics in the living room and at least one full bookshelf of paperbacks in each bedroom. She even had a few trivia books in the bathroom._

_Hermione's love of books came naturally, seeping into her from the wooden panelling of this house._

_Her grandmother set a plate of scones onto the table and sat down. Then, with an air of dignity she always acquired at tea time, she picked up the kettle and poured them both tea._

_"Tell me, Hermione, how've you been doing lately?" her grandmother asked, once the tea had been poured. Hermione poured some milk into her tea._

_"I've been well, grandma. I've managed to keep my grades up and am the best in my class. But don't worry, I'm not studying too hard; Harry and Ron won't let me. Those two are impossible sometimes."_

_"Harry and Ron? Are they good friends?"_

_"The best. I'd risk my life for them in a second and I know they'd do the same for me."_

_Hermione took a sip of her tea._

_"That's good to hear. Books make wonderful companions, but they can't replace real friends."_

_"I know."_

_"It's good to know you're enjoying your new school. I was worried about sending you so far from home and into the unknown."_

_"I love Hogwarts! There are so many things to learn there - things I could never learn anywhere else. I mean, it's not perfect and there are quite a few unpleasant people there, but I wouldn't want to be anywhere else. I really want to be a good and proper witch more than anything else."_

_"Life always brings with it unpleasant things. But you've become strong; strong enough to fight those unpleasant things. I'm proud of you."_

_Hermione picked up a scone and spread some butter on it. There was a big smile on her face and she didn't think she'd ever felt this happy before._

_"Thank you, grandma. It means a lot of me, it really does."_

_"However..."_

_Hermione looked up as she took a bite out of her scone, closing her eyes for a moment as she savoured the delicious taste. No one made better scones than her grandma._

_"I think, perhaps, that you need to open your mind just a little bit further or else you'll never see the truth."_

_Hermione frowned. "I-I don't understand. I've always tried to consider everything, even if it didn't seem likely."_

_"Hermione dear, I know you have. Which is why you can't see the obvious truth that's in front of you."_

_"The obvious truth...?" _

_Hermione thought about this as she finished her scone. She took another sip of her tea. Then it hit her. Her eyes widened as she stared at her hand - the one that was holding her teacup. The teacup that suddenly seemed much smaller than she remembered it. Slowly, she put the cup down and brought both her hands up for her to see. Then she looked down at herself. She was wearing her Hogwarts school robes. She looked back to her grandmother, fear and confusion warring in her eyes._

_"Grandma - how, why... this is impossible. It can't be. You-you're-" _

_Hermione couldn't bring herself to finish the sentence. Tears sprung to her eyes, but didn't fall. Her grandmother had died three months before she'd gotten her Hogwarts letter. This cottage now belonged to a young couple and their Scottish terrier._

_Suddenly, there was a pair of arms wrapped around her and Hermione smelled lilac. She returned the embrace, breathing in the familiar scent._

_"I know, dear, and I'm sorry I had to leave. I would've loved to have been with you for a little while longer." The older woman pulled back from the embrace and ran a gentle hand through Hermione's hair. "But, you've done so well on your own. I really am proud of you." _

_She kissed her forehead and then stood up and smiled. There was a hint of sadness in her eyes._

_"But you're still so young. Too young. So, I'm here to help. I have something for you." _

_With that, she simply walked away from the table and through the door that led to the living room. Hermione followed, walking through the familiar doorway only to suddenly find herself amidst a now even more familiar scene. She stopped short as the dark shelves of the Hogwarts library's Restricted Section spread before her._

_That was all it took for Hermione to suddenly see a parade of images dancing before her in her mind: Ron screaming, the Cup of Hufflepuff, the elaborate preparations for the spell, bright light and a sense of danger..._

_"This is a dream," Hermione said, even as she realized it herself._

_"Yes, it is." She looked up at the voice and saw her grandmother standing several bookcases away. "Now come along, there are people worried about you. You shouldn't keep them waiting for too long."_

_Hermione followed her grandmother to a part of the Restricted Section she didn't usually go to. It was a small section, yet, when they stopped, she recognized it right away: divinations. There her grandmother reached up to the second highest shelf towards a large burgundy-coloured tome with thick gold ornamental print. However, it wasn't the tome which she picked, but the smaller, brown book beside it._

_"Here, I believe this is what you're looking for," she said as she handed Hermione the book._

_Hermione stared at the book in confusion. It had several arithmancy symbols she vaguely recognized as something she'd read about, but hadn't actually studied. There were also several other symbols she didn't recognize at all. The title was written in thin gold letter: 'Prophecies of the Ancients'._

_"Remember Hermione, sometimes finding the truth requires a leap of faith." Her grandmother smiled encouragingly. "And don't be afraid to make friends. After all, sometimes help can come from the most unlikely of places."_

_Hermione opened the book..._

Hermione finally stirred at exactly 2:38 in the afternoon. Ron was out of his own bed and at her side only seconds after he heard her moan. Two minutes later, he was being sent away by Madame Pomfrey with a stern look. It then took the Hogwarts nurse an hour before she was satisfied enough with her patient's progress to leave her to rest on her own.

No sooner had the door to her office once again closed, Ron was sitting in the chair beside Hermione's bed.

"How're you feeling?" he asked.

"I've certainly felt better," Hermione answered with a tired smile. "How's Harry?"

"Still unconscious, but Pomfrey says he should be okay." He paused for a moment. "We did it, though. Nearly bloody died, but we did it."

"Oh, the runes-"

"I checked last night and they're gone."

Hermione closed her eyes and smiled in relief. "Good. I'd hate to have to try again."

"Yeah."

Just then something banged against the door to Pomfrey's office. Ron's head shot up. After a minute of watching the door not open, he relaxed and turned back to his friend.

"Listen, 'Mione, do you get the impression Pomfrey knows more than she's telling?" he suddenly asked.

"What do you mean?"

"I don't know really, but well, when I woke up yesterday me mum was 'ere and I told her we were practicing a new spell and it went crazy.."

"Madame Pomfrey should've been able to tell that was a lie."

"Yeah, I know, but it was the best I could think of at the time. And she never said a word."

"That's odd...unless..." Hermione paused and Ron waited for her to get her thoughts together. "Someone must've looked after Dumbledore when he hurt his hand destroying the Horcurx on the ring, so maybe she already knows."

"Maybe. I could swear that while she was poking me after I'd woken up, she was mumbling something about wanting to 'give that blasted senile old man a piece of her mind'."

"Then she definitely knows."

They sat in companionable silence for a while.

"Ron," Hermione said after a while, "later, when I'm feeling a bit stronger, will you help me down to the library."

"The library? Sure. Why do you want to go there?"

Hermione looked at Ron with a smile, a contemplative look in her eyes. "I'm going to take a leap of faith so that I can figure out how to see the truth."

Ron eyed the empty potions bottles on the side table and decided not to question his friend any further.

* * *

Buffy plopped down into the bright blue loveseat in the living room. She was exhausted.

Although, she was trying her best to quip about it, the situation with Dawn had her anxious like nothing ever had before.

This was worse than being up against Glory, or even the First - there the opponent had been incredibly powerful, but at least she'd known who she was up against. There were no Bringers, no threats, nothing to prove the enemy actually existed except some vague rumours. Could it be this enemy wasn't after the Slayer at all? Could this enemy know what Dawn was...

She didn't even want to think about that possibility. She knew very well Giles had been discreetly researching the Key along with everything else, but had mentioned it to no one. They knew next to nothing about the Key and the thought that perhaps her powers weren't quite as gone as they'd thought had occurred to all of them. That there existed someone out there who knew more about this than they did was a horrifying thought.

But, honestly, even worse was the thought Lori had voiced: that the attack was random and had nothing to do with Dawn at all. That, this time, she had simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time. Someone who didn't know Dawn's worth could consider her sister easily replaceable...

Buffy shook her head, dispelling all these depressing thoughts. She had to keep reminding herself that her little sister wasn't exactly helpless. She might not have the strength or speed of a slayer, but she was smart and had been in such situations before.

Buffy swung her hands above her head and stretched, listening with satisfaction as her back popped in several places. She looked at the clock. It was just after midnight.

She eyed the sword resting against the doorframe contemplatively. It was still early by slayer standards, but then again, lately her schedule had been decidedly off. Wizards weren't exactly creatures of the night, after all. Maybe she should call it an early night - take advantage of the numerous other slayers out on patrol right now - and get some sleep.

A nice, warm bath sounded like a really good idea.

Her mind made up, Buffy willed her limbs to propel her off the loveseat. She made sure to grab the sword on her way out of the room. It had been a gift from the Immortal and she rather liked it. The blue gem stones that decorated the top of the sheath matched a pair of boots she owned.

She was half-way up the stairs when the doorbell rang.

Buffy stopped and turned to stare at the door. She frowned. She could see two silhouettes outlined through the stained glass in the front door. Neither looked like a slayer she recognized. Slowly, she descended down the stairs, taking her sword out of its sheath and then laying it down at the bottom of the staircase. The darker of the two figures moved and the doorbell rang again. And again.

Apparently said person wasn't very patient.

"Buffy, are you getting the door?" Lori called from where she had stuck her head out of the library. "It's probably just one of the trainees who's forgotten her key."

"Lori, stay back," Buffy said in an even voice, just loud enough for Lori to hear her. "It's definitely NOT a slayer."

Buffy didn't glance back at Lori and so didn't see the watcher's eyes widen, but she did hear her slip back into the library and rummage through the closet next to the door for a weapon. The closer she got to the door, the stronger the demonic presence became. She took the sword into her left hand and hid it behind her back before undoing the latch on the door. She swung the door open, pretending to be casual.

"Hey buster, do you have any idea what time -"

Her words got stuck in her throat and she froze. Vaguely, she noticed that one of the people was a short brunette- her slayer instincts flared and told her the girl wasn't nearly as harmless as she looked- but it was the other person, who had her full attention.

"S-Spike..." Buffy whispered as she stared at him.

"'lo Buffy," the familiar blond vampire said with a warm smile.

Buffy's sword dropped to the floor with a loud clang. Tentatively, the slayer reached out with her right, letting her hand hover for a few seconds, before gently caressing his cheek. Spike held patiently, all too happy to let the woman he loved reassure herself he was real. The hand left his cheek and he sighed.

The next thing Spike knew, he was flying through the air and landing on hard cement pavement. For a few moments, he could do nothing but stare up at the stars in utter confusion. He brought his hand up to his cheek, realizing suddenly that it stung.

"Well, now I can't say I'll ever get tired of seeing that," a familiar voice laughed from further down the street.

Spike sat up and growled at Xander. Then he stood up and glared at the approaching blonde, who was emitting clouds of anger in her wake.

"Oi, what's the big i-"

"Why didn't you tell me you were still alive?!" Buffy yelled at him.

Spike froze, at a loss for words. All of his reasons, all his excuses, suddenly seemed very stupid and insignificant in the face of the angry woman. Xander, meanwhile, came to a stop a few steps behind him. He was with three girls, all of them carrying weapons.

"Buffy, I -" he finally said, pleading with his eyes that she understand. "I thought you should move on with your life -"

"You idiot!"

Spike flinched, preparing for the blow he was sure was coming. His eyes widened as, instead, he was suddenly being tightly embraced by a pair of arms that could probably break his back quite easily. As suddenly as it had appeared, the angry aura was gone and Spike smelt salty tears. He blinked once in confusion, before gently putting his arms around the girl.

"I'm sorry, luv. I just figured with the major big bad gone and the hellmouth closed permanently, you'd finally have a chance at a normal life." He paused. "And well, I don't really do normal very well."

Buffy chuckled softly before breaking their embrace. Spike let her go reluctantly and looked down at her. Her eyes were shining with moisture, but she wasn't actually crying.

"Yeah, well, apparently neither do I."

Spike frowned and a growl began to form at the back of his throat. "Yeah, I 'eard 'bout you and the Immortal. Bloody bastard - you should be careful around 'im. He's dangerous and not one to care 'bout who 'e hurts."

Buffy rolled her eyes. "Don't you start. I've gotten that speech from Giles, Xander and Dawn - well, Dawn actually thought it was kinda cool, but she still did the whole 'be careful' speech thing." She paused for a moment, her eyes narrowing. "Wait, how did you know about the Immortal - oh, right. Andrew must've blabbed."

Spike remained silent, choosing to stare at the stars instead. He really hoped she decided not to verify that with Andrew, because he and Angel probably wouldn't survive her finding out the truth.

Just then, someone cleared their throat.

"If you two are done with the reunion-y bit, um, we've kinda got bigger things to worry about than Buffy's messed up love life."

Spike turned to Xander with a frown. Buffy shot him a dirty look.

"Huh?" said Spike. "What bigger things - wait, you already know about the dark lord bloke?"

"Sort of." Spike looked to Buffy. She looked serious now. "Dawn's been kidnapped and we think it was him, or his minions or whatever. But -"

"Voldemort has Dawn?!" Spike exclaimed.

"Huh? Who's - oh, that's his name?"

"Uh, yeah, although the wizards 'ere don't actually call 'im that. Too afraid to say 'is name, bloody pansies. They call 'im You-Know-Who."

"Seriously?" Xander asked. "Is he that strong?"

Spike shrugged. "Blue and I ran into some of 'is minions and I can't say I was too impressed. Bloody morons didn't even realize who I was."

Buffy frowned. "Blue? Who's Blue?"

"That would be me," a deep voice said from behind her. Buffy turned, realizing she'd completely forgotten the girl that had arrived with Spike.

"Woah, super demon at ten o'clock," Xander joked.

Illyria ignored him and walked up to Buffy. She still looked like Fred, but the hard look in her eyes and confident stride were all hers. She stopped just in front of Buffy and stared at her, as if sizing her up.

"You are the Slayer?" she finally asked.

"Yes, I am. Who are -"

"I can feel your power, the demon flowing through your blood -"

Buffy tensed, subtly shifting her body into a stance she could attack from if needed- she really wished she had kept her sword.

"You are strong, like the dark one, called Faith. A being created to destroy the power of my kin; I recognize you as a warrior." Suddenly, the girl's appearance began to shift as Illyria shed Fred's guise and became a demon.

Buffy gasped. It wasn't that she hadn't known the slender girl was a demon, but the strength of the demonic aura she was suddenly emitting surprised her.

"I am Illyria."

"Um, uh, hi, nice to meet you. I'm Buffy."

Illyria nodded. Then she turned around and headed for the house, where Lori stood in the doorway, holding a quarterstaff and staring at the scene with wide eyes.

"Well, we should probably follow 'er," said Spike, not at all fazed by her abrupt switch.

"Yeah," Buffy agreed and also began to walk back to the house. Everyone else followed.

When she reached the entrance to the New Watcher's Council, she stopped and turned around with a smile.

"Welcome to the Watcher's Council, Spike. I invite you in."

Spike smirked. "Thank's, luv."

* * *

Author's Notes:

**Hermione's grandmother** - we know so little about Hermione's family, except that her parents are dentists and she's an only child, so for the purpose of this dream I created her a grandmother. And no, Hermione is not going to suddenly become a dreamseer or anything.

Anyone who was looking forward to more Dawn/Draco, sorry. There was supposed to be a scene in here with them, but I had to cut it. The chapter was just too long as it was. However, they'll definitely be in the next one. Anyway, thanks for reading and please review!


	11. Chapter 10

I am so very sorry for taking so long with this chapter. Seriously, I have never re-written, re-organized and re-thought anything as much as I have this chapter. There are a few scenes that got changed and moved around several times before I declared this finished. Not a whole lot of action in here, but things are definitely starting to move.

Thanks to LadySunflower and Gwen for reading this over for me.

**Important:** One reviewer pointed out to me that my Faith sounds like a gansta girl parody (or something like that) and she isn't supposed to. After going back and re-watching some season 3, I've come to agree with her. So, after I send the next chapter off to my betas (which is nearly done, btw), I'll be going back and re-writing some of Faith's dialogue from previous chapters. So, basically, if you see chapters being re-uploaded and such then that's what's going on. No major changes, just re-wording stuff.

* * *

**Prophecy of the Four**

**Chapter 10 -** News

Draco swept through the dungeon - doing his usual round of the cells in half the time it normally took him and barely glancing at the prisoners as he passed. Having been woken up when her guard banged the heaving door open, Dawn yawned and stretched. She waited for him to sit down in the chair that sat just within her limited line of sight.

"Good morning, sunshine," Dawn called to him after he'd sat down. The scowl on his face deepened as he blatantly ignored her. "So, what wonderful dreams did you have that made you decide to be my personal alarm clock this morning." She looked at the sliver of dim light that was trying to make its way into her cell. "It is morning, right?"

By now, the boy wizard had not only given up his attempts to ignore her, but was all-out glaring at her as well. It lifted Dawn's spirits quite a bit to see his disgruntled face.

"Yes, it is morning," he finally said. "And if I have to be up this God-awfully early, then I see no reason as to why you should be allowed to sleep, Muggle."

Dawn rolled her eyes.

"You know, I do come with a name - in fact, if you look outside, you might even get inspired and remember it. 'Cause as far as cute nicknames go, 'Muggle' totally looses out."

"I don't care what your bloody name is!" the boy snapped.

"Geez, did Dark Lord Nameless forget to tuck you into bed last night or something?"

The noise that escaped the boy could only be described as a growl - or at least an attempt at one. Dawn giggled.

"You seem to think that just because you haven't been harmed yet, you're safe. I _am_ a follower of this 'evil dark lord', as you like to put it. It's only a matter of time before someone finds a use for you." He sneered at her. "Such as target practice."

"Which kinda brings up the question: why are you his follower?"

"What?"

"I mean, no offence, but this job seems to kinda suck. You're stuck in a damp, dark, _boring_ dungeon, working long hours with no sunlight and I can't imagine there being any decent health benefits, let alone any sort of pension plan. Plus, the boss seems kinda scary and psychopathic-"

"It's my duty as a Malfoy and a Slytherin!"

"Duty, huh? Okay, I can get duty, I suppose - though not from the kill, maim, torture and be generally evil perspective."

The blond boy frowned, but said nothing. For a while the dungeon was silent except for the occasional creak as he moved in his chair.

"Oh, by the way, did something happen yesterday?" Dawn suddenly asked as something occurred to her. The boy blinked in confusion.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, it's just that ever since yesterday afternoon it just feels, I dunno, like, darker around here - and not in the sense that there's less sunlight." Dawn paused for a moment to think. "It's like the atmosphere suddenly got ten degrees more dangerous. Like, um... oooh, I know! It feels kinda the same as London right now! Which would mean that the same thing causing people in London to be so ubergrouchy is now here in this, um, place."

The boy was openly staring at her with an expression that lay somewhere between amazement and bewilderment.

Dawn cringed when she noticed and a very hesitant 'oops' echoed through her mind as she realized she might've gotten a bit carried away. She was supposed to be pretending she didn't know anything about magic, after all.

"I mean, it's just that it reminds me a bit of home, you know and after living in Italy I could kinda tell the difference when I arrived in London..."

His eyes got wider.

"Reminds you of home?" he asked slowly. "Where the hell are you from that dementors remind you of home?!"

"Dementors? Huh? What are they, some sort of demon?"

"Uh, no, not really, more like wraiths. They make you relive your worst memories and suck out your soul."

"Charming. I'll have to make sure not to run into them; my worst memories were bad enough the first time 'round."

The boy snorted, the look on his face saying he didn't quite believe her and in that moment Dawn wanted nothing more than to prove him wrong-

Just then the dungeon door opened with a heavy screech.

* * *

"Hey, do you all remember the good ol' days, when all the apocalypse-makin' baddies hung out within a mile of the high school?" Xander asked out loud. Buffy chuckled.

"Doesn't that pretty much include all of Sunnydale?" she joked.

"Hey, least he's not out to destroy the world, that's gotta be a plus, right?" said Faith.

"A lack of world destruction is always a bonus," Buffy agreed.

"Yes, well, I don't think we should be celebrating just yet," said Giles.

Everyone turned their attention to the Head of the Watcher's Council. They were seated around the library table with Giles, Lori and Buffy sitting on one end, Spike and Illyria at the other end and Faith and Xander somewhere in the middle. On the table was a spread-out map of England, although it was partially obscured by a tray with both tea and coffee pots on it. Beside the tray, there was an almost empty plate of cookies.

Giles held up the notebook Dawn had been using before she got kidnapped.

"Let's not forget the prophecy. It clearly - or at least as clearly as any prophecy ever gets - states there will be an apocalypse, the world will be destroyed. If this Lord Voldemort isn't out to destroy the world, then some else is. Which means we're back to where we started."

"Oi, could I see that?" Spike asked.

Giles nodded and gave the notebook to Xander, who passed it to Spike. The vampire opened it and began to read. Illyria stood and went to read over his shoulder.

"Maybe he really is out to destroy the world, but ain't advertisin' it," Faith suggested. "I mean, more people will follow a crazy guy who's takin' over the world than they will a crazy guy who wants to destroy it."

"Think he's going for popularity votes?" asked Xander.

"Or perhaps somewhere along the way something's going to backfire," said Lori. "You never know what can happen when you delve into dark magic."

"Yeah, some spells should really come with warning labels, like 'Warning: adding eye of newt before virgin's blood could result in complete world destruction!'."

"Yes, thank you, Xander." Giles pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. "No, somehow I can't see an apocalypse being caused by a spell backfiring unless he had absolutely no idea what he was doing."

"And by the sounds of it, Voldy-whatever has his mojo stuff pretty straight," said Buffy.

"Exactly."

"So, I gather all you lot have been able to figure out in this 'ere prophecy is the 'seven days' Biblical crap up at the top?" Spike spoke up from his reading.

"Yes, it was Dawn's pet project, mostly. Although, she seemed to think it was missing something."

Spike grinned. "Aaah, right, got it." Spike chuckled before he began to read aloud. "Dawn theory #3: The Ancients gather, invite a lion and a snake to arm wrestle, while they throw a huge three-day mega bash that ends with the destruction of the world. Hence why the lion can't win, 'cause they all die first. Party date TBA."

"I think it's a brilliant theory," Buffy immediately said.

"Yup, I'm sold," Faith agreed.

"Now all we gotta do is hit up all the party supply shops and find out which evil organization's buying out all the flavours," Xander added with a grin. "It'll be a piece of cake."

"Unfortunately, none of this is helping," said Giles tiredly.

"Mind you," Spike said suddenly, "this 'black and white' bit sounds kinda Shakespearean."

"Shakespearean?"

"Yeah, like 'fair is foul and foul is fair' sort of thing."

"MacBeth," said Lori. "Things aren't always as they appear."

"Could that mean the Ancients?" Buffy asked. "Like they seem evil, but they're really not?"

Giles shrugged. "It would certainly be nice if that were true."

"Then I gather you lot 'ave no idea who the Ancients are either?" Spike asked.

"We were actually kinda hoping, uh, Illyria might have an idea, being, uh, super-old herself and all," said Xander.

All eyes turned to Illyria, who was still staring at the notebook Spike was holding open in front of him. For a while she didn't even move.

"I have no knowledge of this prophecy," she finally answered. "However, since arriving in this land I have felt a familiar presence. Sometimes there is one and once I believe I felt two, but I am unable to identify either. It is as if the presence was being covered up by another power, although even that power seems to be slowly decaying."

They all looked at each other.

"Well, at least we have a better idea of what we have to do next," Giles said at length. "I'll admit, Spike, that your information was much more helpful than I'd expected it to be."

"Yeah, go figure that it's the 'may or may not exist' magic castle that ends up being the important one," said Faith. "And a school of all things."

"Wait, Spike, did you say you knew how to get into the Wizarding shopping mall?" Buffy asked with a contemplative look.

"Well, sort of. According to a local bartender it's through a pub called the Leaky Cauldron."

"Never heard of it," said Faith before looking to Buffy, who shook her head. Giles looked at Xander.

"Right, got it," the one-eyed boy said, opening his laptop as he poured himself another cup of coffee. "Off to Googleland I go."

"Is it just me, or does every new clue just end up with us having more things to find on top of the things we're already trying to find?" asked Buffy with an annoyed pout.

"Well, hopefully, once we've found the first one, it'll start a chain reaction," said Lori. Then the older woman yawned. "I am definitely getting too old for these all-nighters."

"What are you talking about?" said Xander from behind his laptop. "You're not a day over 25!"

Lori chuckled. "Only in the dreams I'll be very shortly having, I'm afraid."

"Yo, should we also be tryin' to find Wes's castle?" asked Faith.

"What, Hogwarts?" asked Giles. He thought about it for a moment. Then he looked at Spike. "Is there any particular as to why this castle might be important - other than our own experience that states that schools make very good places for evil things to gather?"

Spike shrugged. "Well, that Dumbledore bloke, who put the shivers into Voldemort's shoes before 'e got 'imself killed two months ago was the 'eadmaster and Harry the Wonderkid is a student there-"

"But the headmaster's dead and it's summer vacation," Buffy pointed out. "There'll be no one there right now."

"So basically we find the pub first and then see what's what from there?" said Faith. "You know, they better have some damn good beer in that place if I'm gonna spend my time searching London to find it."

"Hey, at least it isn't going to run around on you," said Spike. "I made sure to ask 'bout that."

"Oh good, Buffy the Building Chaser just doesn't have the right ring to it," said Buffy.

"You could be Buffy the Pub Crawler," suggested Faith. Buffy perked up.

Giles sighed. "Any luck Xander?" he interrupted before the conversation could veer off into parts unknown.

"Surprisingly enough, no," the boy answered, his voice heavy with sarcasm.

"Well, maybe if we ask some of the girls they may have already seen it," said Giles. "I mean, they weren't exactly looking for a pub and there's always the possibility they just walked right past it. Otherwise, we'll just have to go through the city street by street until we find it."

"Please, please find something, Xander," Buffy implored her friend. When he didn't respond, she frowned and peered down the table at him. "Xander?"

Xander was staring at the screen in front of him, eyes wide and displaying complete and utter disbelief.

"Did you find something?" Giles asked hopefully.

"Um, I haven't found anything about the pub," Xander answered slowly. "But you guys should really come take a look at this."

"What is it?" asked Faith.

"Today's front page."

* * *

The blond wizard's head turned immediately and he shot to his feet. Moments later, he visibly relaxed. The door closed and soft footsteps began to walk towards him.

"Snape," he called in greeting, "good morning."

Dawn craned her neck to try and catch a glimpse of the newcomer.

"Good morning, Draco. I was rather surprised to hear you _loudly_ passing by my lab earlier. You would think getting up for classes every day for most of the year would've made you into a morning person at long last."

The deep baritone seemed to ooze out of the darkness like gently rolling fog. Dawn fruitlessly attempted to stretch the bounds of her chains even more.

"Ehem, uh, sorry. Was there something you wanted?"

The footsteps stopped and Dawn could see a dark shadow at the periphery of her vision, but she couldn't make out anything useful.

"Your father has asked me to inform you that the Dark Lord wishes you to participate in tomorrow's raid."

The boy's eyes widened and even in the poor lighting, Dawn could tell he'd paled slightly.

"Th-that's tomorrow night?" he asked.

"Yes. You will be under your aunt's direct supervision, so I suggest you do your best to perform well. If you do well, you may even be given a different assignment than guarding Muggle prisoners."

Dawn wondered if it was just her imagination, but the boy didn't seem particularly overjoyed at the news. However, he straightened himself up arrogantly and puffed his chest out.

"G-good. Guarding prisoners is hardly a task befitting someone of my station and abilities."

"Indeed..."

Dawn snickered.

The boy froze and the shadowy figure he'd been talking to slowly turned around and stepped forward, into the dim light cast by the lantern that hung beside Dawn's cell. Dawn's eyes widened slightly. The man was tall, dark and looked like he belonged on the cover of _Vampires Monthly_. Simple black robes covered him from the tips of his shoes to the top of his head, where a curtain of greasy-looking black hair seemed to be attempting to hide the dark eyes that looked down on her. In contrast, his skin was so pale it looked as though it hadn't seen sunlight for longer than it could remember.

"Mr. Malfoy, did you somehow forget to silence this Muggle's cell?" he asked slowly, not looking away from Dawn.

The boy winced and fidgeted slightly.

"Um, well, she wasn't screaming or crying and was actually quite calm, so I figured it wasn't entirely necessary-"

"I see..."

Dawn rolled her eyes.

"What Blondie there is trying oh-so-hard not to say," she began, completely ignoring the boy's pointed look, "is that being a prison guard is kinda boring and I'm loads more entertaining than the rats down here. Which, by the way, you really should do something about. Twenty-first century dungeons so do not need to come accessorized with rats."

"Fascinating," Severus Snape noted dully, "she seems completely unafraid, despite her situation." He narrowed his eyes. "She also appears unharmed."

"_She_ is sitting right here! Hello?! Do magic wands come with zero manners?!"

Snape straightened himself to his full height and glared down at the insolent girl sitting chained up in the small cell. She looked pale, malnourished and dirty, her long hair hanging limply from her head in a tangled mess. But her eyes glared defiantly back at him.

"Muggle, you are either incredibly brave or ridiculously foolish," he spat.

"Um, she also doesn't seem to be reacting to the dementors," Draco added. "She, uh, said she could feel their presence, or at least that something had changed."

"Really?"

Snape's eyes narrowed as he studied the girl. His curiosity was piqued. Every living thing felt the presence of dementors; the dark shadow they brought with them crept into the subconscious and called to the most basic primal instincts even when they weren't directly in front of them. However, most people didn't realize it consciously - unless they knew what to look for, or the dementors were very close. He had never heard of anyone feeling their presence, yet being unaffected by it. Perhaps, she was simply very good at hiding it... Or she was just that dense.

The girl narrowed her eyes in displeasure - apparently she didn't like being stared down at. Snape smirked. The look on her face remotely reminded him of the Potter brat - he found a sort of vindictive pleasure in seeing her behind bars and in chains.

"I wonder how long you will remain unaffected for, Muggle," he finally said. "Dementors have been known to drive people mad, turn them into terrified, twitching masses of limbs."

"Which is clearly why they make such great house pets," Dawn noted dryly.

"You won't be talking back so flippantly in a few days, once they've had time to settle into your mind. Most people are affected almost immediately, but even the densest of creatures will eventually succumb to their pull."

"Yeah, well, I'm not 'most people'. I'm from Sunnydale, California, so my definition of 'frightening' is probably a bit different from yours."

Snape scoffed. As if he cared where the stupid little Muggle girl was from. He was a Death Eater - he _was_ 'frightening'. He turned his back on her and back to Draco. He also had a potion brewing, which was much more interesting than some loud-mouthed Muggle.

However, he decided as he exited the lower dungeons, he'd come back in a few days just to be certain she wasn't indeed somehow immune to dementors. It could result in some interesting research - no one had ever figured out a way to nullify their effects before.

The dungeon door closed shut and the boy - no, she knew his name was Draco now - left to do another round of the cells. Dawn let out the breath she was holding. She'd gotten annoyed at the tall man and said too much. Luckily, neither one of them seemed to have ever heard of the Californian hellmouth.

* * *

Vi stretched and yawned as she walked out of her room and towards the stairwell. She was hungry, so a bowl of cereal before showering sounded like a good idea. As she began walking down the stairs, she noticed Gwen was at the bottom.

"Good mornin'," Vi called.

Gwen stopped and turned to look up at her.

"Good morning!" she called back with a smile. Then she waited for Vi to make her way down the stairs. "You're up early again."

"I'm hungry. There was so much commotion here last night I decided not to have my usual post-slayage snack."

"Yeah, I heard that vampire, Spike, arrived last night. I caught a glimpse of him before he, Buffy and the others shut themselves up in the library. I must say, he's rather dishy."

Vi giggled, before glancing at the library door. She frowned and then walked up to the door and put her ear to it. She stepped back quickly.

"Wow, they're still in there," she said.

"Hey, maybe this means they've got a battle plan. The whole 'wander aimlessly and search for something we're not even sure exists' plan was sure not fun."

"No, definitely not - oh, look, the paper's here."

Vi walked to the door and picked up the newspaper from where it had fallen in through the mail slot on the front door.

"Cool," Gwen shrugged. "I wonder if anyone's made coffee yet..."

She in the process of turning around to go to the kitchen, when Vi stopped her.

"Um, Gwen?"

Gwen stopped turning and twisted her head around to look at Vi. "Uh huh?"

"Y-you remember those dreams we've been having, the ones we were both feeling kinda unsure about? W-with the cloak-and-mask guys?"

Gwen frowned and turned to face the other girl completely. Vi was still standing in the doorway, the newspaper unfurled in her hands. She seemed frozen in place, her wide eyes staring at the front page. Gwen slowly made her way to her side.

"Yeah, of course I remember those dreams, Vi."

Vi turned the newspaper to face Gwen. Gwen gasped.

"You know, I'm impressed she's not only got a none-pipe explosion theory here, but has actually managed to prove how none of the accidents could possibly be caused by a pipe explosion," said Xander. "She's good."

"Yeah, but do ya really think the whole terrorist explanation's any better?" asked Faith. "I mean, what kind of terrorist wears black robes?!"

"Ones that've watched too much _Lord of the Rings _to be healthy?" Xander suggested.

"Well, if you think about it, it's not really too much of a stretch to call these Death Eaters terrorists," Giles commented.

"Magic instead of machine guns," Buffy agreed.

"Yeah, they did remind me a bit of the Nazis what with their whole pureblood spiel," Spike agreed.

"Means someone in the government knows the truth, though," said Lori. "According to the article most of the information about the terrorists comes from an anonymous source from the Prime Minister's office."

"Well the kids in New York said the American Ministry of Magic co-operates with the regular American government," said Spike. "Would make sense they'd do something similar 'ere."

"If that's the case then I can't imagine the wizards being all too happy with this development," Giles said thoughtfully. "Unless-"

Just then, the door to the library burst open and Vi and Gwen practically ran into the room. Everyone at the table turned to them in alarm.

"Hey, have you guys seen the morning paper yet?!" Gwen asked.

"Uh, yeah, we're looking at it now," said Buffy.

"Okay, so remember, like, five days ago when Gwen and I went down to the finance district to do day patrol and there was this explosion at one of the shops?" Vi asked, her words coming out at twice the speed they normally would.

Everyone sitting around the library table went still.

"Oh dear, I'd almost forgotten you two were there," said Giles.

"Didn't you two say you only remembered a small explosion, nothing dark and supernaturally?" asked Xander.

"And that's honestly all we remember seeing-" said Vi.

"But since then we've both been having these weird dreams that feel really, really, real and it's like we're back in front of that shop only everything's happening differently-" Gwen continued.

"At first we thought they might be slayer dreams, only Buffy said we'd know if it was one of those-"

"Yeah, you would," Buffy agreed. "It's like instinct or something."

"Also they were slightly different every time we had them," said Vi. "Like, I remember some lady laying on the ground and Gwen says she remembers some chick with pink hair-"

"But there were always these black cloaked masked guys waving sticks." Gwen unfolded the newspaper and turned the front page towards them. "And looked exactly like them!"

For a few moments stunned silence filled the library. Suddenly, the table shook intensely as a powerful fist banged into it. Everyone jumped at the noise and turned to Buffy, whose eyes burned with barely suppressed anger.

"These wand-waving freaks are starting to seriously piss me off," she said. "First they get my little sister involved and now they're messing with my girls' memories. Somehow that doesn't really make me want to get all friendly-neighbour with them. Those Death Chompers better hope Dawn's still alive and one piece when I find her..."

"Yo, chill, B.," said Faith. "Before we show them any Slayer tricks, we gotta find 'em first."

"More to the point, how're we gonna get past all their wand-wavy mojo?" Xander asked. "I mean, slayers aren't exactly magic-proof."

"Although, at least they seem to be resistant to a point," said Lori thoughtfully. "I imagine a normal person would completely forget, whereas Vi and Gwen's mind was trying to tell them something was wrong in the form of dreams."

Twin shrieks from Vi and Gwen brought everyone's attention back to them. Both looked surprised and scared as they had suddenly found themselves staring into the inhuman eyes of Illyria. Spike put a hand up to stop the others from doing anything. No one moved. Finally, Illyria stepped back and cut the eye contact.

"The spell isn't very powerful," the demoness declared. She turned to Spike. "Nor is it very well hidden. Like a parasite within their minds, it has weaved a web around those memories, reflecting a lie in their place."

"Can you remove this, um, parasite," Giles asked, a bit uncertain as to how much he should trust this powerful demon.

"My powers are sealed. I can see, but nothing else."

"Damn," said Buffy. She frowned. "I mean, sort of."

"Look, I don't know what you're all getting your knickers bunched up for," Spike drawled as he leant his chair back impossibly far. "I mean, don't you lot have a magical powerhouse of your own?"

"Well, of course, but Willow's in South America right now."

"Last I heard she was headin' to some lost temple or something," Buffy added.

"Well, you've got a way to get a hold of her, right?"

"Her cellphone's probably out of range," said Xander. "But I suppose we _could_ get Kennedy to go get her."

"Worth a try," said Buffy with a shrug. "Having super-Willow on our side while we storm the dark fortress of magical doom would definitely help. I'll go call."

Buffy began to stand up, but Xander stopped her.

"Uh, Buff? You may wanna wait a bit to call," he said. "They're, like, five or six hours behind us, so it's the middle of the night."

"Oh, right, time zones. I hate time zones; they give you jetlag."

Giles chuckled. "In that case we might as well all get some sleep." He turned to Vi and Gwen. "In the meantime, before you go train, could you two please write down anything and everything you can remember from your dreams?"

"Yup, sure thing."

"Will do."

"Right, well, my warm comfy bed is calling my name," said Buffy with a yawn as she got up.

The others followed her example as they all left to get a few precious hours of sleep. Except for Vi and Gwen, who went to hunt down coffee in the kitchen.

* * *

Prime Minister Anthony Davidson sat quietly behind his desk, a newspaper spread out in front of him - open to page 4A. He wasn't actually reading it anymore; he didn't need to anymore. In fact, he wasn't even looking at it, instead staring off into space, idly sipping his fifth cup of coffee (and desperately wishing it was bourbon).

He was steeling himself against the inevitable.

Outside his office the phone had been ringing on and off all morning. His secretary wasn't there to answer it. Kingsley Shacklebolt had arrived his morning - Anthony had been in even earlier and therefore heard him. Then he'd heard rustling paper, followed by some sort of crash. There were several agonizing minutes of silence. What he heard next could only have been Shacklebolt dashing out of the office - duties of secretary and bodyguard completely forgotten.

Anthony sighed. Any moment now, that blasted portrait on the wall would announce the arrival of the Minister of Magic. Or maybe they'd just send Fudge again. On second thought, they only sent the former Minister of Magic when there was bad news to deliver (Anthony sometimes wondered if this was the man's punishment for ignoring the signs of trouble).

There was a knock at his door. Anthony blinked at it.

"Enter," he called, wondering why the wizards were knocking instead of using the fireplace.

"Good morning, Prime Minister," a young black woman said as she briskly walked into the room.

"Ah, good morning, Lisa," he greeted his press secretary - feeling very foolish indeed for not realizing people other than wizards would undoubtedly be seeking him out today.

Lisa Mulligan was a petite, energetic woman who wore her long hair in a bun and a professionally pleasant smile on her face. She hadn't been too happy last night to have to leave her fiancé's home-cooked meal in favour of Chinese take-away at the office and a briefing on the situation and, most importantly, the anticipated article. No, the look in her eyes last night had sparkled of homicidal thoughts directed at him and the other ministers for throwing this situation into her lap (in truth, they'd completely forgot the press secretaries would have to be informed until Connie had asked him matter-of-factly over the phone whether there would be a press conference first thing Monday morning).

In retrospect, Anthony did feel very guilty about it, but there was nothing he could do about it now.

"The press conference is set for 11 am," Lisa said, her mask of professionalism firmly in place. "Press releases have been sent out and I've sent word to both the Minister of the Home Office and National Defence."

"Thank you. And I am truly sorry for jumping you with this so suddenly last night."

"Yes, that was rather inconsiderate of you." She paused and her strict expression melted for a moment. "I am, however, pleased to see this government finally doing something about the situation rather than sitting around waiting to lose a vote of confidence."

Just then the phone outside his office rang again. Lisa frowned.

"Where is your secretary, anyway? Late at a time like this - what is that man thinking?!"

"Uh, well, I believe he's busy handling things from the other side..."

The woman was nothing if not bright and her eyes widened slightly as she immediately understood what he was saying.

"I see, then I will look into finding you someone to temporarily take over until he is able to resume his post."

"Thank you that would be most helpful."

She was about to reply when her cell phone rang. So, instead, she inclined her head in acknowledgement and then headed for the door as she answered the call.

Anthony sighed as she left. She was, quite honestly, handling the situation better than he was and he'd had prior warning. He rubbed his temples as he once again went over his speech for the press conference in his head. He just couldn't wait for this day to be over so he could go home and have a very large drink of something with an incredibly high alcohol content.

"Ehem, ehem."

Anthony cringed. That was it, the sound he'd been waiting for: the one that hounded him in his sleep. In the silent office, the small noise might as well have been a foghorn. And then came the dreaded words:

"Please await the arrival of the Minister of Magic, Rufus Scrimgeuor."

Apparently, the issue did in fact warrant the presence of the Minister of Magic himself. Anthony, with momentary bitterness, wondered whether he should feel honoured.

Suddenly, the fireplace roared to life with a blast of green flames. Moments later, three men had walked out of it and were dusting soot off their clothes. The Prime Minister stood up from his desk to greet them.

"Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge and, oh, Kingsley Shacklebolt, what an unexpected surprise," he said with a polite smile. He turned to Shacklebolt. "Lisa will be very happy to hear she no longer has to find me a replacement secretary for the day-"

"Cut the bullshit, you knew very well we were going to come see you today," Scrimgeour barked, clearly furious. "There's no way we wouldn't after seeing that article in one of your papers. What were you thinking, man?!"

"You know very well it is of the utmost importance to maintain the secrecy of the Wizarding World," Fudge added.

"Of utmost importance to you, perhaps," Anthony muttered under his breath.

"I'm sorry, what did you say?" Scrimgeour asked with a frown.

"Oh, sorry, I was just saying that I haven't breeched your secrecy. If you've read the article then you'll realize it is completely free of even the slightest mention of the word 'magic'." He took a deep breath - this was the part he'd rehearsed before. "You see, terrorism is a very real threat in today's world and all developed countries are faced with dealing with it in some way or another. While the public will undoubtedly be alarmed by this news, it won't come as horribly surprising given the state of the world at present. Furthermore, it's not exactly a lie. To you, these Death Eaters are an opposing army in a war, however, Britain as a country is not at war and these attacks are random acts of terror."

"Yes, but the pictures-" Fudge whined.

"That was your oversight. The reporter already had those when she came to me."

"Then you should've informed us immediately. That is why we've assigned Shacklebolt to you, after all."

Anthony took a deep breath and allowed his features to go blank. He even put his hands behind his back so that the two politicians and their silent shadow couldn't see how tightly his fists were clenched. He really, really despised wizards right now - he was the head of the British government, not their lackey.

"I apologize, but it all happened rather quickly and she had quite a bit more evidence than just those pictures as is evident in the article-"

"That could have been dealt with; her memories could've easily been erased-"

"That aside, Mr. Fudge," Scrimgeour interrupted his colleague as he watched the Muggle Prime Minister with a critical eye. "Why did you meet with her in the first place? You could've easily dismissed it as a hoax. Instead, you've made things worse for everyone involved, including yourself, with this elaborate story made of half-truths. Your own government can't be too happy with you at the moment, surely."

Anthony straightened himself to his fullest height. Now came the icing on the cake - he actually found himself looking forward to their expressions.

"You misunderstand me, Minister Scrimgeour," he said, keeping his voice as politely neutral as he could. "This 'elaborate story' _is_ the official position of this government."

The wizards' eyes widened as they realized the implications of what he'd just said. After surprise, he saw anger flash in their eyes, but he didn't give them the opportunity to vent. His ex-girlfriend had apparently rubbed off on him somewhere over the course of the weekend.

"My country and its citizens are suffering. My colleagues were losing faith in me, because they could tell I was holding something back from them. Did you think Connie Price was the first, or the only, person to notice something strange was going on. Had I told her the pictures were a hoax, do you think she really would've just left it alone?"

"We could've easily erased her memories-"

"And what of those who'd come after her? She happened to come to me first, but the others likely wouldn't until they had more solid evidence and by then it would've been even worse. This way, the people have a more believable explanation. True, they'll be angry at us for covering it up until now, but at least they've been warned that there is a threat. Don't forget that most people would never make the stretch to magic or other supernatural forces on their own, so I believe your secret is safe for now."

The office was silent for several moments. They seemed to be genuinely contemplating his words - probably debating with themselves whether his reasoning was acceptable.

"Yes, I suppose you're right," Scrimgeour finally conceded and Anthony let out the breath he was holding - he wasn't quite sure if there actually anything the wizards could do at this point, but he wasn't all too keen on finding out. "Adult Muggles have, for the most part, proven to be rather resistant to the very idea of magic. It's a problem the magic schools encounter every year: without some sort of proof, most simply refuse to believe in its very existence, let alone of a hidden world of magic."

"Yes, that's true, Minister, however-" Shacklebolt began to protest, but the Minister of Magic waved him off.

"I know what you're about to say, Shacklebolt and, for sure, we shall have to be extra careful when dealing with Muggles from now on, but I agree with the Prime Minister and don't think we are in any imminent danger of being discovered. It's not as if someone could just happen upon the Leaky Cauldron and find us, after all."

Anthony took another deep breath. It wasn't that he didn't understand the wizard's desire for secrecy. He knew his European history very well and he'd read _Witch Hammer _once in university. No, that wasn't what made his blood boil.

"You know, Minister Scrimgeour," he interrupted their quiet argument. "I can't help getting the impression you're rather underestimating us. Muggles, I mean. We are human beings, after all, and thus capable of both rational and irrational thought. And, in turn, despite all your magic, you too are only human."

Scrimgeour narrowed his eyes at him.

"What exactly are you implying?' he asked.

"Nothing really, just making an observation." He glanced at the clock on the wall. "However, if that is all I'm expecting the Minister of the Home Office and the Secretary of State for Defence in about for a brief meeting before the press conference."

"What? Oh, yes, of course." Scrimgeour cleared his throat. "Good luck to you then."

Then he made sure to give the Prime Minister one last, rock-hard look.

"Just remember next time something like this happens, you must contact us immediately so that we can deal with it."

"Uh, yes, I make sure to do that." Anthony held out his hand. "Good luck to you as well, Minister Srimgeour."

The Minister of Magic smiled politely and shook his hand. He and Cornelius Fudge then departed through the fireplace, while Kingsley Shaklebolt nodded one to the Prime Minister before making his way to his desk, where the phone was ringing once again.

* * *

Just on the outskirts of busy and crowded Rio de Janeiro, where the noise of the city became muted to a dull and distant drone, stood a large, well-kept house. Large, compared to the small, suburban townhouses of the locals, yet it was dwarfed by the mansions and villas built by rich American tourists or the local drug lords. This wasn't a house built out of opulence, but one that could comfortably fit about a dozen people.

From the front, it was surrounded by greenery and would've likely disappeared from view altogether if it hadn't been painted pale yellow. Most casual passer-bys tended to miss the large satellite dish on the roof, nor could they tell there was a small gym behind the house next to the stables and facing the sizable yard.

Several steps led up to the porch, where two massive wooden pillars stood at the top. From each pillar hung a small wooden carving with strings of beads, feathers and strips of animal pelts, teeth and bones dangling down from it. They were gifts from a native shaman - charms to protect against malicious non-human intrusions. Keen eyes could spot more such charms hanging from various trees around the house and land, although except the two at the entrance, each charm or totem carving was unique. They were offerings of thanks given to the ancient warriors and their ally, 'the woman whom the gods embrace'.

Just as the sun rose to above the treetops, the morning chorus of birds and insects was interrupted by a shrill ring from inside.

At first, nothing moved. The phone rang again. After the third ring, a door on the second floor banged open and a short, nicely-tanned girl with long, dark hair that was currently sticking out in all the directions it shouldn't have been, stepped out. She put a hand over her mouth as she half-stretched, half-yawned, her grey tank top riding over the top of green plaid boxers to expose her belly button.

The phone rang again.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, I get it already; geez," the girl muttered as she made her way down the wide, wooden staircase.

At the foot of the staircase there stood a small table made of dark wood. Each of its legs had been carved in the shape of a leopard, the tabletop resting on their heads. The girl reached for the phone, frowning a bit as she glanced at the call display.

"Hello?" she asked. Then her eyes lit up in happiness mixed with a bit of confusion. "Oh, hey Buffy. Yeah, it's Kennedy. Um, Willow's still at that temple and therefore not here. What happened to spending the summer in Italy and culturing up?"

She paused, listening. Suddenly her hand flew to her mouth in surprise.

"Oh my God! A week?! Dawn's been missing for a week?! Do you know who-"

She listened for a while, hanging onto every word that was said on the other end. Then she nodded to herself, a determined look in her eyes.

"Okay, I got it. I know where the temple is - sort of. I mean, I'll go to the village and get someone there to show me. I can be ready to leave in a couple of hours... Um, if I take a horse, I can be there at the village by tomorrow evening and then it's about another day or so to the temple, except I think I have to walk that... Well, yeah, I could take the car to get to the village, but Willow's hiking. If, for some reason, she's already on her way back, then we'd miss each other completely and waste a whole lot of time... Nah, teleportation's out. I think she said something about too many kinda powerful artefacts and temples making it like a magical jamming zone. I remember she tried teleporting from there once and ended up somewhere in the middle of the Andes... No problem. I'll get Willow and you concentrate on finding Dawn and delivering a royal ass-kicking to the bastard, who kidnapped her... Got it, we'll call you as soon as we get back... Bye, Buffy."

Kennedy replaced the phone and ran up the stairs to shower and get dressed.

An hour and a half later, she was saddling her horse, Scarlet. The two watchers in charge hadn't been very happy to hear they were losing their senior slayer for several days, but they'd had little choice in the matter.

Once the saddle was on, Kennedy reached for her backpack and was about to throw it over her back when Scarlet perked up and whinnied. Kennedy looked up. The mare was looking intensely towards the forest.

"What is it, girl?" she asked the horse.

Then she heard rustling leaves and cracking twigs. Something was coming out of the forest. Slowly, Kennedy put her backpack down with one hand and reached for the long knife attacked to her belt. As she straightened up, she patted Scarlet's neck in reassurance - although she noted that the mare didn't seem nervous at all. The intruder also didn't feel demonic-

Finally, a humanoid shadow emerged from the foliage. As it came into view, Kennedy's eyes widened in surprise. Her hand abandoned its grip on the knife and she ran towards the forest, reaching the edge just as her girlfriend stepped out.

"Willow!"

"Oof, oh, uh, hi," said Willow in surprise. A wide smile spread across the redhead's face and she hugged Kennedy tightly.

They parted long enough for their lips to find each other. Minutes were spent reacquainting themselves with the other's taste and smell - the feeling of being wrapped in each other's embrace. When they finally parted again, they were both panting for breath and beaming happily.

"Wow, I am so glad to see you," said Kennedy. She brought a hand up to caress Willow's cheek, which the redhead leaned into.

"Yeah," Willow sighed. "I don't think I realized how much I missed you until just now."

Suddenly, Kennedy yelped as she was shoved unceremoniously aside by four hundred pounds of adult horse. She stumbled a bit, before quickly regaining her balance. Then she laughed as she saw Scarlet nudging Willow - horsespeak for 'Hello, welcome back. Now where are you hiding my sugar lumps?'. Willow was also laughing.

"Sorry, Scarlet, I'm fresh out of sweet things. I'll bring you some out later."

Scarlet snorted and then wandered off again.

"Well, it's not my fault peppermints don't grow on trees," Willow pouted.

Kennedy giggled. "Don't worry, she'll have forgotten all about snubbing you by the time you come 'round to see her again."

"Yeah, probably. By the way, were you just on your way out for a ride?"

Kennedy gasped. "Oh my God, I almost forgot!" Her eyes turned serious. "Buffy called about an hour and a half ago. I was actually about to ride out to get you-"

"Dawn," said Willow quietly, a hint of fear in her eyes. It wasn't a question.

* * *

A thick haze of incense blanketed the musty room, drowning out most, but not all, of the strange odours lingering within the dark crevices and under-lit shelves of the small, one-room shop. From behind a beaded curtain, glassy blue eyes watched. Waiting. Her eyes saw through every shadow, knew what lay on every cluttered shelf. Only she knew the true value and usefulness of every bladed weapon, knick knack, book and herb strewn about seemingly haphazardly in the shop.

One shelf stood out amongst the rest. It was half-empty, but that didn't bother the shop's owner in the least - its previous contents were already serving their purpose.

The shop door opened with a loud creak. Ahh, he was here. The hag smirked. She'd been expecting him.

A man entered the shop and closed the door behind him. For a few moments he just stood there, peering into the darkness as his eyes adjusted to the poor lighting. She allowed him the time, noticing he wasn't carrying the books back to the store with him.

Good. His master had taken the bait.

His eyes must've finally adjusted somewhat, because the man ventured a few steps further into the shop. The hag stepped out from her hiding place, beads clinking against each other as they were pushed to the side. The wizard whirled to face the sound. He quickly covered up his surprise and bowed slighting in greeting.

"Good afternoon," he began, "if you remember I am-"

"Yes, Mister LeBeau, I remember you," she replied.

"Ehem, good then. I trust you received the payment for the books without mishap?"

"Indeed, your servant creature fulfilled its duty well."

"And was it sufficient?"

"It will do."

"Good. I apologize for taking so long to return in order to thank you in person. I have been rather busy as of late. Although... I did try to come several times, but for some reason I could never find this shop again. Do you perhaps have some sort of anti-detection wards in place?"

"You could not find this shop because it wasn't here." The wizard's eyes widened slightly. "Surely, to a wizard such as yourself, this should come as no surprise. This shop appears only where it needs to be, when it needs to be there. There were other matters more pressing than yours."

The last part was a blatant lie. There had been absolutely nothing pressing in Vienna, except that she enjoyed walking the city at night and then visiting a certain tucked-away little all-night coffee shop that served somewhat more 'exotic' drinks to 'special' clients. She merely didn't want Voldemort to gain too much at once. It would be quite unfortunate were he to not pay the books proper attention.

"Oh, of course, that makes perfect sense," the wizard said, no doubt chastising himself for his own stupidity.

"However, if you are interested in anti-detection wards, I do have some rather powerful ones."

"Thank you, but the Dark Lord already has some protection wards in place and his current residence is unplottable and guarded by a Secret Keeper charm. I think that additional wards won't be required."

The hag chuckled. "The charms you mention have their limitations. They protect places from discovery. However, were someone with enough power to cast a spell to detect dark magic, for instance, they would still be able to find him. It would take them some time, but they would. That much powerful dark magic is not easily hidden."

The wizard was silent for a moment, his expression thoughtful. The hag waited patiently. She already knew what he would do - human greed was so predictable.

"And you have wards powerful enough to hide the Dark Lord's magic?"

"I do."

"Will it affect his powers?"

"No, of course not. It would be useless if it did."

"Very well then, I would very much like to see them."

The hag bowed slightly and then slowly made her way to a glass-cased cabinet by the door. With a flick of her wrist the cabinet doors unlocked and opened a crack. The hag pulled them open the rest of the way and then reached inside for a medium-sized box. Dust swirled around inside the cabinet as she slowly pulled the box out. She held it out in both hands for the wizard. He stepped up and took it from her, his arms sagging under the surprisingly heavy box. He looked at the hag in astonishment.

The hag smirked as she turned back to the cabinet. Just because she looked frail, didn't mean she was.

She reached into the cabinet for a second, slightly smaller box. In the meantime, Constantine LeBeau had placed the box onto the floor and opened it. Amidst the brown paper stuffing, he found four statuettes carved out of a clear stone. Two of them were unicorns with their heads held low, eyes and horn facing forward, as if to charge an unseen enemy. The other two were also beasts with long horns facing forwards, but they were clearly different than the unicorns. Their feet were wider, with heads that resembled deer more than horses. He turned the statuettes upside down and took note of the runes engraved on the hooves and bellies of each one.

"The two unicorns are to face east and west," the hag said as she placed the second box on the ground next to the wizard, "the other two are monoceruses - a distant cousin of the unicorn without the unfortunate weakness for maidens. They face north and south. Together, these four are the perimeter wards and you must place them on the edges of the area you wish to conceal."

The hag opened the second box and shoved the paper stuffing aside, before taking out a fifth statuette - a dragon. It was easily twice the size of the others and made of amber with two clear diamonds for eyes. The beast sat on its haunches, its tail curled around itself and jaws open in a silent scream.

"This is the central ward. Place it directly in the centre of the area. Activating the wards requires blood - not a lot, just a few drops into the dragon's mouth. The dragon's eyes will be clear when there is no danger, but should someone attempt a detection spell that encounters these wards, the eyes will turn black. If the wards fail, the dragon will shatter."

The wizard seemed to consider the hag's words as he took the dragon and looked it over.

"They seem rather small..." he said.

"But the magic weaved into them is powerful." The hag paused, watching the wizard as he ran his fingers over the runes carved into the underbelly of the dragon. "I would be greatly pleased if you were to present them to the Dark Lord as a token of my good will. I only hope they can be of use to him."

The wizard's eyes shot up to her face. He observed her for a while, looking for any signs of deception. Finally, he seemed convinced of her sincerity and placed the dragon carefully back into its box.

"Thank you, I'm sure the Dark Lord will find this useful."

The hag nodded in acknowledgment. She got up off the floor and watched as the wizard also stood up. He took his wand out and pointed it at the boxes.

"You may levitate the boxes," she said before he could utter a single syllable of a spell. "However, to shrink the wards or otherwise change their shape would effect their magic."

"I see. Thank you."

He turned his attention back to the boxes and soon they were both floating in the air beside him. The hag had, meanwhile, closed the cabinet door with a wave of her wrist. She turned back to watch wizard and waited, giving him the change to ask her what he'd meant to ask her when he'd first entered the store. Now that her goal was accomplished, she was willing to entertain his requests.

The wizard cleared his throat.

"Yes, well, I am actually here on behalf of my master." The hag nodded - she already knew that. "Since you seem to be so well-informed, he was wondering if, perhaps, you'd heard the legend of a powerful weapon hidden within the Hogwarts lake."

The hag blinked slowly. What an unexpected request. It seemed Voldemort wished to increase his power very quickly if he was searching for mystical weapons. Not that it mattered to her - in fact, it worked in their favour.

"That lake had a name," she eventually began. "Before the school was founded, the lake and the forest around it had a name - both have been forgotten now. The legend you are referring to is as old as they are. It is said the lake was created in order to hide the weapon and the forest sprung up as a natural ward, to protect the lake."

Constatine LeBeau held his breath. He'd never heard this part of the legend.

"Slytherin himself once looked for it with no results," he said.

"As did Morgana Le Fay before him."

His eyes widened.

"To answer your first question, yes, I believe the weapon may very well exist. However, there is no evidence to actually prove its existence except for the legend you have heard. I also have never heard tell of what kind of weapon it is-"

"That doesn't matter, if even Morgana Le Fay searched for it, then it must be very powerful indeed."

"Yet it has remained hidden and untouched all these millennia."

"M-millennia?"

The hag chuckled.

"How long do think that forest has stood there? There are no human records of a lake suddenly appearing overnight. Regardless of how powerful the weapon itself is, it is the power that hid it you should be concerned with. For it is that power that neither Morgana nor Slytherin could surpass - a power that has no doubt since then disappeared from the world."

"So, you're saying there's no way to retrieve the weapon even if it does exist?"

"Not without either more knowledge about the magic hiding it, or enough power to surpass it."

"I see."

The wizard seemed to contemplate this for a moment, before nodding to himself.

"Well, thank you very much for your time. I shall relay what you have said to the Dark Lord, along with your gift."

The hag said nothing. She watched as the wizard exited the shop without a backwards glance. She heard the beaded curtain rustle as someone pushed it aside.

"The weapon hidden within the Hogwarts lake?" a calm male voice asked. "It would seem the Great Dark Lord Voldemort is going a bit senile in his old age."

The hag snorted and turned to the newcomer. He was a tall man, with pale skin that seemed to almost glow from within the depths of the shadows. He wore an expensive-looking set of light grey robes with a matching cloak that had a golden clasp at the front inlaid with one, large, dark green jewel. As he stepped from the shadows, it became quite clear he was not only well-dressed, but also very beautiful.

"First the Gem of Amara and now this? He seems to be grasping at straws, doesn't he?" the man continued, a pleasant smile on his face as he twirled a strand of his long, dark hair with a white-gloved hand.

"Perhaps, but we still shouldn't let our guard down so easily," the hag answered, not at all impressed by the man's beauty. Beauty had never interested her. "Was there something you wanted Master MacNab?"

"Well, Lady Zhur, you shall likely hear of it soon enough, but it's been decades since I'd last ventured into the wizard's realm, so I decided to come regale you with the news myself."

The hag rolled her eyes. For all his power, this man could be such a flake. When she looked back to him, his smile was gone.

"Dermain sent news that one of the Horcruxes has been destroyed."

The hag frowned. "Which one?"

"The one from London. Dermain tracked it as it moved to Scotland and then vanished, probably into an unplottable area. The next day, he felt a massive magical disturbance in the area."

"It vanished in Scotland, did it? Well, that confirms it then. The Potter boy does know of the Horcruxes. Perhaps he is stronger than we previously thought, or else he is being helped by the Order of the Phoenix."

"Either way, they seem to be moving fairly quickly."

"Still, I don't believe we have need to worry just yet. The last three will prove the most difficult to find. Was there anything else?"

"Yes, actually. According to my associates in this city, it seems Buffy Summers is in town."

"That is a bit unsettling. Why is she here?"

"Apparently, she's looking for her sister, who disappeared during that Death Eater attack last week. And she knows it was wizards who took her."

The hag cursed in several lesser-known demon languages. It looked like she wouldn't be returning to Vienna anytime soon.

"I'll see what information Wolfram & Hart have. If it comes down to it, we'll just have to deal with her first. Buffy Summers and Harry Potter must not meet."

"Agreed," MacNab said solemnly before breaking out into a happy grin. "But for now, I shall go enjoy the many magical wonders of Diagon Alley and, hopefully, a few of its more fleshy ones as well."

With a mischievous wink and a tilt of his head, the man began to sing as he practically skipped to the shop door:

"Sigh no more, ladies, sigh no more,

Men were deceivers ever,

One foot in the sea and one of shore,

To one thing constant never"

With a flourish, he swung the door wide open. He bowed deeply to the hag and then stepped outside. She could still hear him singing for as long as it took the ancient door to slowly close.

"Then sigh not so, but let them go,

And be you blithe and bonny,

Converting all your sounds of woe

Into Hey nonny, nonny."

"I think I prefered MacBeth," Lady Zhur muttered as she made her way to the back room of the shop. Apparently, things were beginning to move rather quickly.

* * *

Faith strode into the kitchen with a big smile on her face.

As it was after eight o'clock in the evening, the room was packed with people. Spike was leaning against the far counter sipping a mug of blood. Several of the younger slayers - Renata, Veronica, Gwen and Suzi - were gathered around the stove, chatting away as they cooked something that smelt vaguely of garlic and tomato. Vi was sitting on the counter chatting with them, but not actually helping. Buffy, Xander and Giles sat at the table eating some sort of pasta dish - most likely cooked by Giles - as they poured over Vi and Gwen's dream notes.

"Hey, yo!" Faith called into the din. "I got news and it sure looks like luck's still on our side."

"Good, Lady Luck's always been my favourite girl," said Xander. He looked to Buffy and his smile sobered as he she raised an eyebrow at him. "I mean, except for you. And Wills, of course."

"Hey, ain't I on that list of favourite gals?" asked Faith, a look of mock hurt on her face.

"Umm..."

"Yeah, what about me?" Vi called from her perch.

"Und me?" called Renata.

Xander covered his face with his palms.

"I give up."

Buffy chuckled and patted him on the shoulder.

"You walked right into that one, you know."

Xander nodded forlornly. Giles removed his glasses and began to clean them.

"So, Faith, I gather your news has something to do with that phone call just now?" he asked with a tone of suffering patience.

"Oh, yeah," Faith grinned. "It was Willow."

"Willow?" Xander perked up.

"Wasn't Will in some temple in the middle of nowhere with no tech in order to call or be called?" Buffy asked.

"Yeah, she was until 'bout six days ago when she suddenly got a case of the major wiggins and flashes of Dawn's face along with it. So, like a good little Schoobie, she packed up and headed back to the South American HQ. Kennedy never even left the grounds."

"And this is why we all loves our Willow," Xander grinned.

"Hey, since when am I not the only vision-girl?" Buffy pouted.

"Cordelia had visions," Xander pointed out.

"Yeah, but that's different."

"Actually, Buffy's right," said Giles.

"Huh? I am? I mean, of course I am; I'm always right. Giles, what am I right about?"

Giles rolled his eyes. Why was it that the worse the situation the more childish his charges became?

"About Willow. Her connection is with the Earth, not the Powers That Be. The last time she had a warning about something was when she looked deep into the Earth and saw its teeth opening."

"The hellmouth," said Faith.

Giles glanced at her. "Exactly."

"But she knew about Dawn," Buffy protested.

"What Watcher-boy means is that Willow's warning comes from something else," Spike spoke up from the back. Everyone turned around to look at him. "And if there's something else out there that has the same connection and the power to message Willow via that connection, then maybe this thing with Dawn is a hell of a lot bigger than a couple of wizards playing mini-Nazis."

The kitchen was silent for a moment as everyone thought about Spike's words. Meanwhile Spike shrugged.

"Still, at least it means Dawn's probably still alive. Wouldn't make sense to send a warning about a dead person."

"Does that mean Mr. Big Bad Wizard might know about Dawn being the Key?" Buffy asked quietly.

"A key?" Renata asked.

"Dawn's a key?" asked Suzi. "A key to what?"

The slayers by the stove looked to each other in confusion.

"Oi, what's that strange smell?" Spike asked loudly.

Shrieks erupted from around the stove as the slayers suddenly noticed the mass in their saucepan was several shades darker than it was supposed to be. Giles ignored the noise and turned back to Faith.

"So, did Willow say when she was going to arrive?"

"Yeah, she has to rest first, 'cause she had to go non-stop magical for the trip back to keep hungry animals and demons away from her, plus stop a massive storm, 'cause that would stopped her for, like, half a day - basically she's majorly tired. Also, for some reason, all the flights to London from Rio de Janero were booked up for the next couple of days. So, she's flyin' to Madrid and teleporting from there. Her flight leaves at one o'clock tomorrow afternoon, her time."

"So, she should be here in about two days or so."

"Something like that."

"Which is way better than a week," said Buffy.

"Uh, yeah," Faith answered, frowning as she watched the slayers-come-cooks dump something dark into their saucepan. "Um, what are you guys making over there?"

"Fish wi peanut butter an tomato sauce," Victoria answered happily, her short black curls bobbing as she stirred the concoction vigorously.

Faith blinked at the girls as Buffy made a face. Slowly the dark-haired senior slayer stood up.

"Um, I think I'll go grab some Chinese before patrol. Tell my team to meet me by the Lucky Duck in an hour."

"Sure thing," Buffy said with a chuckle as she waved her off. Knowing Willow was on the way and her sister was most likely still alive and waiting to be rescued had lifted her spirits considerably. For the first time in a week she was actually looking forward to going on patrol.

* * *

Author's Notes:

**Monocerus** - Exactly as described, it's a magical beast that looks pretty much like a unicorn (as in the medieval sense of having "the head of a stag, the body of a horse, the feet of an elephant, the tail of a boar, and a single very long black horn growing from the forehead"). However, it's supposedly bigger than a unicorn, has a larger horn and isn't weak to beautiful maidens. My thanks to The Medieval Beastiary website for the description and characteristics of this critter.

**_Witch Hammer_** - A book written by Vaclav Kaplicky about the inquisition in a small, central European village - based on real events. Personally, I've never read it, but I've heard it's not for the faint of heart.

**"Sigh no more, ladies, sigh no more..." **- It's one of the songs from _Much Ado About Nothing_ by William Shakespeare (Act II, Scene iii). If you didn't recognize Master MacNab, he appeared in the first chapter with the other 'mysterious robed figures' and then got introduced by name in chapter four when they met again by the Rollright Stones.


	12. Chapter 11

Happy Holidays everyone! Sorry for taking so long to publish this... my beta's run into some problems and couldn't get around to looking at this. As a result this has been read over (thanks, Gwen!), but not betaed, so I apologize in advance for any spelling/grammar mistakes you might find. I think I got them all, but you never know.

Thank you to everyone who reviewed and for baring with me and my slow releases. Hopefully, I'll get better in the New Year.... however, since I feel like I say this every year, I wouldn't get my hopes up too much, lol.

* * *

-1**Prophecy of the Four**

**Chapter 11 -** Messages of Hope and Plans of Ruin

_Faith opened her eyes and squinted at the sudden brightness. Sunlight streamed in through the large, half-circle window she was facing. Outside, she saw a bright, peaceful town settling down into a leisurely, post-dinnertime lull. A wave of nostalgia hit her as she realized this was the view from her old Sunnydale apartment - not the crummy motel room she'd stayed in at first, but the really awesome one Mayor Richard Wilkins had gotten her._

_Then she realized she wasn't alone._

_"Well, you win some, you lose some," said a very familiar voice. "It's the batting average that counts. So you lost some friends..."_

_Faith turned around. Sure enough, there was Mayor Wilkins himself, lounging casually on her red sofa._

_"I wouldn't exactly call them friends," she heard herself answer. She was confused - that wasn't what she'd wanted to say - but he didn't seem to notice her confusion._

_"So chin up. You don't see me looking disappointed about it? Because I know you'll always have me."_

_Wilkins stood up, bouncing slightly on the balls of his feet. Faith suddenly realized she remembered this conversation; it was right after the Scoobies had discovered her betrayal. After she'd failed to get Angel to turn into Angelus... _

_"Besides, once the ascension starts, whoo, they'll be lucky if there's enough of them to fill a pothole."_

_Was she dreaming? Why was she dreaming about this of all things?! It wasn't by far her worst memory and it certainly wasn't happy..._

_"Still unhappy?"_

_Faith sat down into the armchair behind her. Wilkins looked thoughtful for a moment._

_"Okie dokie, I have two words that are gonna make all the pain go away." He knelt down next to the armchair, leaning on one of the arms. Faith began to smile, she already knew what would come next._

_"Lemon drops."_

_Faith froze. That wasn't what he was supposed to say._

_"Huh?"_

_She frowned at the grinning face of Richard Wilkins. After a few moments, he stood up and put his hands in his pockets._

_"Oh good, you noticed," he said with a twinkle in his eye._

_Faith stood up slowly, her narrowed gaze not leaving his face. The man took a few steps back in order to give her some space._

_"You're not the mayor," she said._

_"Well, actually, I technically am. Or, I suppose you could say I've hijacked your memory of Richard Wilkins. Sort of. I mean, the only place he exists anymore is within your memory, right?"_

_Faith growled. "You wanna explain that in a way that won't leave me confused? Or do I need to add some violence?"_

_"Woah, steady there, patience is a virtue, you know!"_

_"Yeah, well, I ain't exactly known for being all full of virtue."_

_"Oh now, don't be so hard on yourself. So, you messed up a bit, so what? The important thing is that after you fell, you managed to pull yourself back up - that takes strength and a lot courage. I'm proud of you, Faith, really, I am."_

_Ice began to crawl up Faith's spine as something occurred to her._

_"Are you the First?"_

_"Hmm? Oh, gosh, golly gee no!" Wilkins laughed. "I'm from the Powers That Be."_

_"You're what?" Faith blinked twice before looking at him sceptically. "So, this is a Slayer Dream, then?"_

_"No, not really." The mayor walked over to the window and looked out. "I mean, yes, I'm here to impart some rather vague, yet ultimately useful information, but this is still just a memory."_

_Faith stalked up to the mayor and stepped in front of him._

_"You know, that's funny, 'cause I don't remember Richard Wilkins working for the Powers That Be. Kinda the opposite, really. So how's about you start making sense or should I start looking for sharp pointy things?"_

_The mayor put his hands up in front of himself in a placating gesture._

_"Now, now, there's no need to get violent."_

_Finally, the ever-present smile disappeared from his face and he looked serious._

_"The ones you're up against are powerful. And patient. They've been setting this up for a really long time. You and the other slayers haven't been getting any messages from us, because they're preventing us from reaching you." He turned slightly in order to face her. "See, we saw this coming and we knew you'd need just a wee bit of a push in the right direction. So, I snuck into this memory while you were in the coma, because they weren't paying attention to you then."_

_Faith stared at him._

_"Who's 'they'? Is it the wizards? Is this Voldemort guy seriously powerful enough to arm wrestle the Powers That Be?!"_

_The mayor looked surprised by the question. He blinked several times. Then he began to laugh, as if the very notion of the question was the funniest thing he'd ever heard. Faith crossed her arms and waited with gritted teeth for him stop._

_"No, no, wizards don't have nearly enough power to do that," he finally said as he dabbed away tears from the corners of his eyes with a white handkerchief. "In fact, it probably wouldn't even occur to them to try. Funny thing, you know, most wizards don't believe in seers and prophecies. Almost like it's going out of style or something...."_

_"So there are two enemies?"_

_"Mmm, kind of. I mean, I don't really know who they are exactly, since I've been stuck inside this memory. I **do **know you'll meet them eventually and you need to be prepared, because they certainly are. Also, they already know all about the prophecy you've found."_

_"Great, so they're, like, a million steps ahead of us and we're stuck in the mud."_

_"Oh, I wouldn't say that... more like you're driving along the highway in the middle of a snowstorm. Can't really see where you're going, but if you follow the road you at least know you're going in the right direction."_

_"We are?"_

_"Yep. Oh, and the one you're looking for is still waiting."_

_Faith froze. "Dawn's alive?!"_

_"Dawn? Is that who you're looking for? Well, either way, she's still alive."_

_"Hang on, how do you not know we're looking for B's sister?" Faith asked with a frown._

_The mayor blinked._

_"Buffy Summers has a sister? When did that happen?"_

_"Not sure, some time after I went to jail, apparently."_

_"Aaah, that explains it. See, like I said, I've been stuck inside this memory and, well, there isn't exactly a phone handy so I could call out and check in with my headquarters for updates. I really have no idea what's going on right now."_

_"So, how do you know we're headin' in the right direction?"_

_"Because I'm here. By the way, this would be the 'little push' I was talking about. To tell you not to back down or get side-tracked and just keep going where you've been heading. I mean, you guys are resilient. You fall down, you burn and then you just get right back up - you rise from your own ashes like a phoenix."_

_The mayor grinned madly, while Faith frowned._

_"Phoenix burned down?"_

_The grin disappeared from Wilkins's face and he stared blankly at her for a few moments. Then he chuckled._

_"Not the city, the bird."_

_"Oh."_

_"Nevermind, you can ask Mr. Giles about it later." He waved the topic aside. Then he looked thoughtful. "Well, I think I've said all I came to say."_

_"So, basically you came to tell me that the Powers can't help us and to keep going straight."_

_The mayor smiled. "That pretty much sums it up, yes. But don't get me wrong, we'll be helping out where we can. It's not just the Slayer that's involved in this one, after all." He looked out the window with a distant expression on his face. "Also, I think there's someone else helping - in her own way."_

_"Who?"_

_He looked to Faith with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. "You'll know her when you meet her."_

_Faith glared at her one-time benefactor. "Is she one of the Ancients?" she asked, trying to see if wild guesses could make him say something._

_"The Ancients?" _

_Mayor Wilkins had that thoughtful expression on his face again and Faith grinned inwardly. If there was one thing she could always count on the former Sunnydale mayor for, it was that he loved to talk, loved to explain things to those less brilliant and diabolical than himself._

_"You know, I honestly don't know. She could be, I suppose. But, then again, we know nothing about the Four Ancients mentioned in the prophecy. It's not our prophecy." He turned back to Faith, who was - once again - giving him a confused look. "I mean, the prophecy's legitimate and all - there really will be an apocalypse if you guys don't stop it... But we know almost nothing about it. It was written and inspired by someone else."_

_He paused, folding his arms across his chest as he thought his words through._

_"I'm not even sure if the Ancients will be on our side or if you'll have to fight them. In fact, I don't even think the enemy knows who they'll side with." He grinned. "They're sort of the ultimate wildcard."_

_Faith cursed inwardly. That hadn't helped at all._

_"But it's getting late and you should really be getting up now. Really, staying up all night and sleeping through the day - it's not very good for you. A growing, healthy body needs plenty of good, wholesome food and lots of sleep."_

_The mayor began to blur. Faith's eyes widened and she reached out for him, but her hand went right through his arm._

_"Hey, yo, wait!"_

_The mayor grinned and winked at her. _

_"Go get 'em, Tiger."_

_And then he was gone. Faith looked at her surroundings and noticed they two were melting away..._

Faith opened her eyes.

* * *

Making sure to smile extra pleasantly at the two men, Roshika placed their orders in front of them. Outside the summer months and working as a waitress, she was a political science student and had therefore recognized the first of the men as soon as she'd spotted him: Joseph Montgomery, the opposition party's finance critic. He was a scrawny, little man with a goatee and a loud voice. Although, at the moment his loud voice was being rather quiet. Or perhaps he merely saved it for his on-camera appearances.

He'd ordered the vegetarian lasagne with grilled Portobello mushrooms and garlic bread.

She didn't know the second man, only noticed that he was wearing a very expensive-looking suit and held himself like someone important. He was older than the politician, with salt-and-pepper hair that made him look distinguished, rather than old, and a serious-looking face. Probably a businessman or a lawyer, she guessed.

His order was the veal parmesan with linguini and Caesar salad, no garlic bread.

As she poured their wine, she idly wondered if they were here to discuss something government-related. She knew better than to ask, however, and instead smiled again and left to check if the couple at her other table needed more wine.

"You know, I think she recognized you," the older man commented after the waitress had left.

"So? Does it matter?" Joseph Montgomery asked. "You said you wanted somewhere discreet, you didn't mention going undercover."

"No, it doesn't really matter. Just thought you might be interested to know."

"Oh. Well, it's always nice to know I'm a recognizable face to the public. Helps during campaigns, you know."

"Of course."

Joseph Montgomery took a bite of his lasagne and nodded approvingly before taking a sip of wine. Satisfied with both, he then turned back to his companion.

"So, tell me, Mr. Knight, what was it that you wished to discuss?"

"I am here on behalf of the senior partners to propose a deal - or rather a cooperation - between us in order to deal with someone whom seems to have, quite unexpectedly, become a rather large thorn in both our sides."

"I'm assuming you mean the Prime Minister."

"Of course."

"Hmm, so those so-called terrorists really do have something to do with Wolfram and Hart. I thought as much."

"Not exactly, but you could say we're watching them very carefully and there are plans in place concerning them. The Prime Minister's recent actions are a nuisance to us and we would like to make sure he doesn't take any more 'proactive measures'."

"Oh, so you do know what this is all about."

Peter Knight paused. "I do, however, I am not at liberty to discuss it with you."

Anger flashed in Montgomery's eyes, but he didn't press for any more information.

"Then what is it that you wish to propose?"

"Wolfram and Hart is willing to help you in any we can to enable you to depose the current prime minister. To us it really doesn't matter whether you merely cause the governing party to choose a new leader or have them loose in a vote of non-confidence and hence force a new election. Either way, it would strip Anthony Davidson of his position and power."

Montgomery was silent for a while, slowly chewing on a piece of mushroom as he thought things through. Then he shook his head and chuckled.

"Damn, you lot certainly don't have qualms against anything, do you? Depose the Prime Minister, eh? Hm. Well, that shouldn't be too difficult, I imagine. It's really a wonder he's lasted this long. And this latest scandal can't possibly have done anything to help his popularity with anyone. Now, it's not that I'm not happy to help with this scheme of yours, but tell me, why don't you just have him killed if he's become such a thorn in your side?"

"We will, eventually. Leaving him alive could prove risky, but killing him while he's the Prime Minister would draw too much attention. The media go wild over anything that sounds like it could be a conspiracy and they might go digging where we don't want them to."

"Whereas, if he quietly disappears after being kicked out of office - in the midst of an election campaign preferably - his death would get lost in the shuffle."

Knight smirked.

"Precisely."

"Hmm, I see. Very well then, I'll begin stirring up seeds of mistrust and malcontent. It would be helpful if you could dig up any dirt you can on the man. Another accident or two would also be helpful."

"I'll see what I can do and get back to you with anything I find."

"Excellent! And I must say, this is quite possibly the best vegetarian lasagne I've ever had outside of Paris. A very good choice."

"Thank you, I'm glad you approve. I took my wife here a few weeks ago for our anniversary..."

* * *

Dawn heard the heavy door open and then close and looked up instinctively, despite knowing all too well she couldn't actually see that far. She listened carefully instead. It was far too early for a shift change, so something must be happening. Maybe this was her chance - she'd been carefully practicing her magic all this time waiting for one, after all.

She had it all planned out: she'd use the utility knife in her pocket to pick the locks on the handcuffs (she wasn't sure if it had been left there out of negligence or arrogance, but either way no one had approached close enough for it to be of any use as a weapon), break the small window using a few of the stones fallen from the wall, and then jump up and pull herself through the window. And lastly, pray that whatever dark wizards used as guard dogs weren't too vicious - or didn't eat young women.

Obviously, there were a few problems with this plan, the least of which being that Dawn wasn't quite sure if she could actually use the utility knife to pick the lock. So, she strained her ears to see if she could overhear anything useful from the new arrival.

She heard Tweedle Dum and Tweedle Dee amble up to the entrance, where they greeted someone called Mrs. Ma-something. A feminine voice answered. There was a brief, unfortunately whispered, discussion and then the door opened and closed again.

Dawn sighed. She could feel the beginnings of hopelessness taking root in her mind, combining with nightmares that made her reluctant to fall asleep. She refused to stop believing Buffy would come rescue her, but...

Suddenly, she realized the footsteps approaching her cell were much lighter than those of the two boys. She looked up with a confused frown. This was different - an unscheduled shift change?

A woman walked by her cell and casually looked in. Her eyes widened and she stopped, staring down at Dawn. Dawn glared defiantly back. The woman stepped up to the dungeon cell and Dawn tensed as she drew a wand.

The woman waved her wand and mumbled a spell Dawn didn't quite catch, except to recognize that it sounded Latin-esque.

"It's an anti-eavesdropping charm," the woman said simply and Dawn started at the sudden break in silence. "No one can hear us now."

"Uh, nifty," said Dawn, not at all trying to hide her confusion.

"You're Dawn, right?"

Dawn's eyes widened, but she quickly quelled the momentary surge of panic, reminding herself that it wasn't like she hadn't told anyone her name - they just hadn't been using it. Dawn nodded. and the woman seemed to relax a bit.

"D-do you know a woman named Joyce?"

Dawn suddenly felt like she'd been shoved in front of an oncoming apocalypse. Of all the questions...

"My mother's name was Joyce," she eventually answered quietly.

Now, it was the woman, whose eyes widened for a moment, before softening into a look of warm understanding.

"I see. Then you really will understand."

"Hopefully, sometime this century."

Mostly recovered from her shock, Dawn eyed the woman. She had long, light blonde hair, tied back into a tight, slightly frazzled-looking bun and pale skin. Dawn figured it was probably the poor dungeon lighting that made her look somewhat undead - unless it was the fashion with these wizarding types. As she looked, Dawn thought the woman almost looked pretty, or that she easily could've been, if she was just a little less skinny, her skin a little bit more radiant and her worry lines not quite so prominent.

The woman's light blue eyes darted towards the door. Then she took a deep breath and looked back to Dawn.

"I- my name is Narcissa Malfoy," she said. "I'm Draco's mum. That is to say, the, um, blond boy who's been guarding you."

Dawn blinked. This situation couldn't possibly get any stranger.

"Do you often do parent-prisoner meetings or am I special?"

"What? Oh, no, of course not. It's just, well, I had a dream last night..." Dawn cringed internally. "I was inside a Muggle house - which is really a rather odd thing of me to dream of, since I've never seen a Muggle house before - and there was this woman. She smiled and welcomed me and then we sat on sofa as she poured me tea. For some reason, it just felt so natural - relaxing even - for me to be sitting in her living room drinking tea. We talked about a lot of things, I think, and I ended up telling her about everything that's been happening. She said her name was Joyce and she showed me a picture of two young girls. The younger one was taller, with straight, long, brown hair and her name was Dawn. The older one was a bit shorter with blonde, shoulder-length hair. She was pretty, but with a rather unusual name-"

"Buffy," Dawn supplied quietly. She knew she was staring by this point, but she couldn't help herself. She was hanging on to Narcissa's every word, caught between wanting to hear every single detail about the dream and wanting to shout angrily at the unfairness of _her_ mom appearing in the dreams of a complete stranger.

"Oh yes, of course, Buffy. I remember thinking it sounded like something we'd give one of the house elves..."

Dawn blinked. House elves?

"Um, that's great..."

Narcissa met her eyes again and Dawn nearly gasped at the anguish and desperation in them.

"She said you were strong, that you could help. I-I really don't understand how a Muggle could help, but then again a Muggle shouldn't be able to enter my dreams either, unless-"

"She's dead," said Dawn quietly.

"Pardon?"

"My mother, Joyce, she died three years ago."

Narcissa's eyes widened. "I'm sorry."

Dawn chuckled dryly. "Not your fault. Not anyone's fault."

Narcissa lowered her eyes.

"She was right then, you really will understand. And you'll be able to help him."

"Huh?"

Narcissa chuckled.

"Dawn, your mother said you'd be leaving soon. I'd like you - no, I'm begging you. Please, take Draco with you."

Dawn froze. Help her prison guard? Not that she had anything against the boy, really - he didn't seem so bad once you got past the attitude... This was getting a bit surreal. However, she couldn't help the happiness - and hope - that blossomed in her heart when she heard she was going to be rescued. Buffy was on her way!

When Dawn didn't answer right away, Narcissa continued.

"Please, I know he's not always the nicest boy or the easiest to get along with, but he's a good child." Tears began to gather in her eyes. "They want to turn my baby into a murderer, but he's not! He couldn't kill Dumbledore when he had him almost at his mercy even though the Dark Lord had threatened to kill both me and his father." A quiet sob and then Narcissa added in a quiet voice: "If he stays he'll be forced to kill and I-I'm afraid it would break him."

In this moment, Dawn's heart ached for Narcissa.

"I believe you," she said and Narcissa looked up, hope shining through the tears that her pride wouldn't allow to fall. "I've seen evil, met killers. Your son, I mean Draco, isn't one of them. He's a snotty, spoiled brat with enough ego and attitude to eclipse half of London with, but that doesn't make him evil."

Narcissa chuckled. "Yes, that's likely my fault. He's my baby boy, after all."

Narcissa was silent and Dawn waited patiently for her to continue. Finally, Draco's mother smiled sadly.

"Please say you'll take him with you, get him out of here. I know what it'll mean for him to not join his father's ranks tomorrow and the consequences of him failing during his mission. Joyce said she would help him make the right choice - I'm not exactly sure how, but having met you here like she said I would, I think I believe her. No, I want to believe her. I will pay the price for my son's freedom gladly. Just please say you'll help him."

"I will," said Dawn without hesitating. She met Narcissa's hopeful eyes with a look of hard determination. "I don't know when or exactly how I'll be getting out of here, but I swear I will do everything I can to make sure your son comes with me."

For the first time since she entered, Narcissa smiled a genuine smile - sadness still lingered, but now there were traces of hope and relief as well. In that moment, Dawn thought she glimpsed the beauty this woman might've once possessed.

"Thank you, Dawn. Thank you."

Narcissa brought her wand out again, but paused before undoing the anti-eavesdropping spell.

"I am curious, however," she said. "If you're a Muggle and you come from a Muggle family, how exactly are you supposed to escape from here."

Dawn shrugged. "My sister, probably."

"But I thought your family was completely-"

"My mother was a completely normal, non-magical human being. The only magical thing about her are her daughters." The corners of Dawn's mouth twitched in amusement. "I may not be a witch, but I'm not exactly normal either. Just never came across the Wizarding World before."

She paused, wondering how much she should reveal. Should she risk it? The woman had just risked a lot to come here and ask her to help her son - she was putting all her trust in a dream and a teenage girl, who was chained up in a dungeon... She deserved to know that trust wasn't being misplaced.

"And my sister is Buffy Summers, the Vampire Slayer."

Narcissa's eyes widened in shock.

"The Vampire Slayer... but that's just-"

A few moments passed in silence before Narcissa nodded in understanding. She said nothing as she waved her wand to dissolve the spell around Dawn's cell. Then she left.

About five minutes later, the original guards re-entered the dungeon. As they passed by her cell, Dawn snickered at the plate of cupcakes they each were carrying.

* * *

The boy looked ordinary enough - late teens with shaggy brown hair, wearing a black Metalica t-shirt underneath a red and beige checked sport shirt and light-coloured cargo pants with a huge backpack slung over one shoulder. A tourist, plain and simple.

The only strange thing about him seemed to be that for the past 10 minutes he'd been standing on the busy street staring into a digital camera with a very perplexed look on his face.

Of course, anyone enlightened enough to figure out what it was the boy was trying to take a picture of, would know in an instant that Connor was no ordinary boy. Although, even then they likely wouldn't come close to guessing just how unusual he really was.

Connor snapped a picture and then pressed a button to see what it looked like.

"Huh, that's weird," he said. He deleted the picture and decided to try again.

Connor looked in front of him. There were three buildings there: a bookshop, a pub and a record store. He brought his camera up and looked at the screen. There was a bookshop, a record store, but no pub. He took a picture and then looked at it. Nope, still no pub. In fact, there wasn't even any room for the pub in the picture.

According to the sign in front, it was called the Leakey Cauldron. It was small and looked surprisingly old and grimy next to the well-maintained buildings on either side of it. Not that the rest of the street was immaculately clean or newly constructed - it was just that the pub looked as if it had been built sometime in the Middle Ages and stayed there, while the stores around it slowly passed into the twenty-first century.

Stranger still was how nobody seemed to notice its existence. The people walking by looked into the display windows of the record store and the bookstore, but never so much as glanced at the pub.

Connor looked around him. No one was paying him any attention. Good. He walked right up to the pub and sniffed. He wrinkled his nose in distaste. It wasn't surprising, but the place reeked of magic. And not of the everyday demon variety he was used to, either.

It didn't feel as powerful as Willow Rosenburg's had been and there was a sort of staleness to it, like whatever the pub was shrouded in had been there for a very long time. And it didn't smell of demons or vampires either.

So, he concluded, it definitely wasn't a demon bar. After all, what kind of demon bar would put itself into the middle of such a busy street, spell or no spell. Especially not with the Watcher's Council sharing the city with them.

Suddenly, Connor really wished he had a weapon. It wasn't that he was afraid of magic as such, just understandably wary and not particularly fond of the idea of walking, unarmed, into a building that was practically drenched in it.

He turned his camera off and walked away. There was no helping it. He'd just have to get Mr. Giles to lend him a battle axe and come back tomorrow.

* * *

The doors to the Malfoy Manor ballroom opened and Lucius Malfoy swept into the room with quick, sure steps that echoed inside the large, mostly empty room. Having grown up in the manor, the flying dragons on the walls and ceiling did not impress him and he ignored their splendour as he passed. About two-thirds of the way down the room, the Dark Lord Voldemort turned at his arrival.

Lucius approached his master and then bowed respectfully.

"As you commanded, the statuettes are in place," he said.

"Very good, Lucius," the Dark Lord answered. "I'm assuming you personally made sure of this?"

"Yes, my lord."

"Excellent."

The Dark Lord was silent for a while, seemingly deep in thought while he gently stroked the top of the dragon statuette sitting beside him on a small table. It was the central piece of the ward Constatine LeBeau had brought him late yesterday evening. It seemed the man had managed to find himself a very useful acquaintance. First the books and now this - Voldemort had looked it up himself shortly after receiving it and discovered it to be a rather old and extremely powerful ward indeed.

He was curious to meet this old hag LeBeau spoke of. But first: the ward.

The Dark Lord picked up a small, silver knife that was laying next to the dragon statuette. He cut his hand and held it out, angling it so that the blood gushing out of the wound dripped straight into the dragon's open mouth.

At first nothing happened and the Dark Lord frowned, but didn't take his hand away. Blood continued to disappear into the dragon's mouth.

And then, slowly, the dragon's eyes began to clear until they resembled freshly cut diamonds.

Voldemort smirked in triumph and moved his hand away. The wards, that would hide his magic from prying eyes, were set.

* * *

From within the depths of the steadily lengthening shadows of a downtown London alleyway, a figure suddenly emerged. It was a short figure, wearing a dark robe with a hood that obscured its face from view. Not that anyone saw this person as he stood there, just within the boundaries of the shadows, watching the evening rush of people on the street. Despite his rather odd appearance, none of those people noticed him even after he finally abandoned his dark alley and joined them, weaving his way through the crowd like a silent shadow.

His destination wasn't far and moments later, he was entering a set of heavy-looking mahogany doors. To the left of the doors a wooden grate ran up the wall of the dark brick building, with blood red roses climbing along its frame. To the right of the doors hung an unobtrusive gold sign with black lettering, which read simply "THE PALACE".

He drew a few curious looks upon entering the restaurant and those who looked up wondered idly, who this mysterious, child-like person was. The Palace was a high-class establishment, known to London's elite as a place to bring people they wished to impress - be it women, men or clients. However, no one spoke a single word aloud about this new arrival - one did not pry into other's business here. Soon, the maitre de was bowing to the mysterious person and leading him to the back.

A few envious glances watched the two leave. The Palace in and of itself was considered 'incredibly posh', but the back was special - only for exclusive clients. How one became such an exclusive client was a mystery.

The maitre de ushered the man past some tropical plants and brushed aside a black, silk curtain that hid the door leading into a private dinning room. In the centre of the room was a long, mahogany table set for four people. Above it hung a splendid six-armed, crystal chandelier. It was the ceiling itself, however, which was the most elaborate feature of the room. Its wooden surface was decorated in a series of blue and green Celtic knot designs inside a similar coloured boarder. There was an animal drawn in each of the four corners of the boarder - a wolf, a crow, a fish and a dragon. To the untrained eye, it was beautiful. To the man who'd just entered the room, it was a powerful ward, one that would ensure whatever was said or done within the room would remain hidden from prying eyes and ears.

The small man allowed the maitre de to take his cloak, revealing red skin, yellow eyes and inhuman features. However, the maitre de wasn't phased by his client's strange appearance and merely asked him if he'd like a drink. The man nodded and ordered a brandy, before turning to the table and nodding a greeting to the tall, pale-skinned man already seated there.

"Ah, good evening, Lord Belzak," the other man said with a wide smile, full of gleaming white teeth. "Or is it good morning for you?"

"Don't be cheeky, child," the warlock snapped. "No matter how you look at it, it's evening outside."

"Child?!" The other man pouted. "You'd think after 437 years I'd no longer qualify as a child."

"Hmp, to me you will always be a silly, human child, regardless of how many times you throw away your humanity."

"Ahh, what a piece of work is a man, how noble in reason, how infinite in faculties, in form and moving how express and admirable, in action how like an angel, in apprehension how like a god! The beauty of the world, the paragon of animals—"

"Man delights me not," a new voice said from the doorway.

The two sitting at the table turned to the entrance where the maitre de was taking the new arrival's gray trench coat. The skinny man was wearing a dark gray suit with a black lily tucked into the breast pocket next to a perfectly fluted white handkerchief. He bowed to the other two.

"Good evening, Dermain, how nice of you to join us!" the taller one greeted.

The newcomer sat down next to him with an annoyed frown as he combed a hand through his long, wispy gray beard.

"Good evening, Master MacNab, now do tell me: why in the world did you have to choose this place for today's meeting?" he asked.

"Well, I thought it'd be a nice change to the dark, dismal places you three usually pick."

"There is nothing wrong with the places we pick!" Dermain said with a huff. "They are entirely suitable for our purposes. I, for one, find humans an unnecessary distraction."

"Hmm, yes, I agree, that pretty little brunette waiting the tables at the front of the restaurant is quite the effective distraction." MacNab winked playfully.

Dermain's eyes sparkled with righteous anger, but anything he wanted to say was cut off as Lady Zhur chose that moment to enter the private dinning room. She was dressed the same as always, except that her dark, blood red robes looked as though they'd been recently dry-cleaned and the usual tangles in her thin, light brown hair had been combed out. She regarded the three men at the table with pale green, bloodshot eyes.

"Good evening, gentlemen," she said, before moving to sit down next to Lord Belzak and opposite Dermain. The four had purposefully left the heads of the table empty and opted, instead, to sit along the centre of the table - ideally, they would've liked the table to be round, but they made do with what they had.

"Master MacNab," she continued, after her comrades had greeted her, "I would like to remind you that we are here to have a serious discussion, not to play to your vanity."

"Oh, but why not?" MacNab grinned, raising his glass in a sort of mock toast. "I've every right to flaunt this beauty of mine. It may not have launched a thousand ships, but it's seduced kings, bishops, duchesses, poets and countless merchants' wives before leading them down a rose-covered path to despair and ruin. And it only cost me my soul!"

"I pity the man, who thought your soul was worth something," commented Lord Belzak.

MacNab frowned. "You know, I'm not altogether sure it was a man..."

"Since you appear to be in the midst of a somewhat lucid mood, Master MacNab, please do tell us: have your spies given you any new information?" Lady Zhur asked. There was a hard edge to her voice, one that effectively put an end to anything further the mage was going to add.

Master MacNab smirked.

"Oh, they have indeed. In fact, it's slightly disappointing just how easy it was to get past the wizards' defences. They really ought to be more cautious. But, since it works in my favour, I won't complain. I can now officially announce that we were right, Harry Potter and his little friends are at Hogwarts working on some sort of secret project entrusted to him by the late and great Albus Dumbledore."

"Voldemort's horcruxes, most likely," Dermain said with a slight nod.

"That I cannot confirm. Not even important members of the Order of the Phoenix seem to know what it is he's working on. But first-" He smirked mischievously at his fellows. "-we must address the most important issue of the evening: do we discuss and then dine, or dine and then discuss? Or, do we dine _and_ discuss?"

Lord Belzak sighed.

* * *

Half an hour later, Master MacNab gently placed his utensils down across his plate with a satisfied little smile.

"Well, I must say, that was divine," he proclaimed, dabbing his lips with a cloth napkin before folding it neatly over the utensils.

"It was adequate," said Lady Zhur.

"It is food," said Dermain.

"You two have no appreciation for the finer things in life," MacNab sighed as he poured himself yet another glass of wine.

"That's because you're human," said Lady Zhur.

"Aaah, yes, human... Man is such a strange creature, isn't he?" He took a sip of his wine and then flung his other arm out dramatically. "We have set thee at the world's center that thou mayest from thence more easily observe whatever is in the world. We have made thee neither of heaven nor of earth, neither mortal nor immortal, so that with freedom of choice and with honor, as though the maker and molder of thyself, thou mayest fashion thyself in whatever shape thou shalt prefer. Thou shalt have the power to degenerate into the lower forms of life, which are brutish. Thou shalt have the power, out of thy soul's judgment, to be reborn into the higher forms, which are divine."

There were a few moments of stunned silence.

"Th-that didn't sound like Shapespeare-" Dermain said with a frown.

"It wasn't," said Lord Belzak. "It was Pico della Mirandola.

"And it has nothing to do with neither Harry Potter nor Voldemort," stated Lady Zhur.

"Or, more importantly, the Slayer," added MacNab.

"Indeed, she is turning out to be the more pressing issue at the moment," Lady Zhur agreed. "So long as Buffy Summers stayed in Italy with the Immortal, the chances of her encountering the Wizarding World and Harry Potter, in particular, were slim. But the situation has changed."

"In fact, it seems she's now looking for Voldemort, because she thinks he has her little sister," the mage agreed.

"Does he actually have her?" Lord Belzak asked.

MacNab shrugged. "If he does, he's clearly not aware of it. It was probably a complete accident to begin with and the girl's been laying low and not saying anything. Or she could already be dead..."

"So, we have nothing actually confirming her presence?"

"No."

"However, Buffy Summers believes he has her and that is enough to be worrisome," said Dermain as he ran a hand through his beard.

"She's not alone either," MacNab said with an excited grin. "William the Bloody's also in town and on the hunt for the Dark Lord Voldemort. He's gotten pretty close too - killed Greyback a few nights ago, while he was recruiting."

"Good, I never did like that mutt," Lord Belzak said to himself. Meanwhile, Dermain frowned.

"But wouldn't his presence only help us?" the sorcerer asked. "He's the childe of Drusilla the Mad. A Master Vampire of his calibre could only help Voldemort gather support."

"That would be true," Lady Zhur began slowly," except that our dear William - or I suppose I should call him Spike - has gone the way of his grandsire. He's an ally of the Slayer now."

"Pity."

"Hmm, this Buffy the Vampire Slayer seems to like her men dark and dangerous..." MacNab mused dreamily as he idly twirled his wine glass between his fingers.

"As much as having you seduce her and then stab her in the back would actually be a solid plan, she's the Immortal's woman," Lord Belzak said with a frown.

"Wait, does this mean we can't kill her?!" Dermian asked, eyes wide in slight panic.

"The Immortal is a worldly man - he understands the ways of the dark," said Lady Zhur. "Buffy Summers is the Slayer. He will say nothing if we kill her, because it means she wasn't strong enough to defeat us. It is her destiny to fight, after all." She paused and fixed the beautiful man across from her with a hard look. "However, he will rip all five limbs from your body and cast you into the infinite void for touching what is his."

There was a pregnant pause. Then Dermain cleared his throat.

"Well, just so long as we can kill her," he said.

He glanced sideways at MacNab, but the mage wasn't paying attention. He was staring into his wineglass with a faraway look in his eyes and a slight frown on his face.

"Yes, dealing with the Slayer and her allies first would probably be the prudent course of action," said Lady Zhur. Dermain looked away from MacNab and grinned maliciously.

"So, we'll step out of the shadows, then?"

Lord Belzak nodded. "Waiting any longer will only cause the Watcher's Council to gain valuable information. They haven't been spotted in the Wizarding World yet, but that may quickly change once they manage to find the Leaky Cauldron. William the Bloody isn't the Slayer's only ally either. We cannot afford to forget about the ones who don't happen to be here at the moment."

"You're referring to Willow Rosenborg," said Lady Zhur and then waited for his nod to continue. "According to Wolfram & Hart, she's in Brazil, supposedly hiking through the rainforest and searching for some long-forgotten temple. A meditation trip of sorts. They don't think she's returned yet. However, the Brazillian branch isn't as well-equipped as the American and European ones and must take extra caution precisely because of her power. Hence, the information may not be entirely accurate."

"Either way, they will definitely call her to England eventually," said Dermain thoughtfully. "I wonder if she's powerful enough to teleport herself across the Atlantic... Well, I will feel any magical disturbances of that sort of power either way."

"And I'm sure Master MacNab can have his spies watch the airports," said Lord Belzak, eyeing the man in question (who still seemed to be paying more attention to the nuances of his wine than the actual conversation).

"Of course, my spies can see many things," MacNab said in a sing-song voice. "That woman by the kala lily, for instance, seems to be trying to impress upon her handsome date just how well teal does not go with her complexion. And those beads: aah, creation of unknown machines, I dub thee hideous to the extreme!"

Lady Zhur sighed.

"Pay attention to your elders, child," she hissed. "Talented though you are, your powers are still no match for ours."

"Hm? Oh, my apologies, Lady Zhur. Of course, my spies will watch the airports. If Willow Rosenborg gets off a plane in London, I will know within minutes - no, seconds."

"In the meantime, we should attack while the Slayer's witch isn't around yet," said Dermain. "The question, is how? From what I hear, she's proven rather resilient in the past."

"I will take care of that," Lord Belzak announced. "Master MacNab's servants aren't suited to battle and yours aren't plentiful enough. Besides of which, her mind is on her sister and finding the wizards. I shall take advantage of that."

Lady Zhur and Dermain nodded in approval. Master MacNab giggled gleefully. From outside the room, they heard a muted crash, followed by several screams.

"By the way, Lady Zhur, did you send Voldemort some sort of ward?" Dermain suddenly asked after rolling his eyes at MacNab.

"Yes, did he use it?"

"He did. Earlier today, I felt his magical signature suddenly disappear. When I attempted to find him again, I couldn't. Must've been quite powerful."

"Nothing less would work against Rosenborg."

"True." He paused momentarily, taking idle note of the sound of feet rushing past their door. "If we're moving against the Slayer earlier than expected, will we also be making direct contact with Voldemort?"

"It is still too early for that," said Lord Belzak.

"I agree," said Lady Zhur. "He is not yet ready to receive us."

Outside, more footsteps ran past their door and then the distant, yet unmistakable wail of a siren.

"Is there anything else left to discuss?" Lady Zhur asked.

"Dessert?" MacNab suggested, now looking wide awake with a smile to match and eyes that sparkled with mirth.

"I knew he was going to say that," Dermain grumbled.

"I hear they have a very good chocolate cheesecake here," MacNab continued, ignoring his colleague.

Lady Zhur perked up at his words, but then quickly sobered. "Yes, well, I suppose dessert wouldn't hurt. Wolfram & Hart is paying for this, after all."

The dessert menus that had been carefully stacked on the far left hand corner of the table were quickly passed around. Several minutes later, there was a polite knock on the door. Then the maitre de entered. Nervousness and fear emanated off him in waves, but - to his credit - he still managed to appear calm and composed. He cleared his throat and bowed slightly to his guests.

"I apologize for interrupting," he said, "I trust everything has been to your liking?"

"Oh yes, it was marvellous," MacNab answered for the group.

"G-good. Ehem, well, I actually came to humbly request that you please refrain from killing our other guests. I-it's rather bad for business, you see."

The three others glared at MacNab.

"Of course," said Lady Zhur. "Our apologies for the disturbance."

"Thank you. Will you be wanting anything else."

"Yes, some tea and we'll be ready to order dessert shortly as well."

"Very well, I will arrange for the tea and send a waitress in to take your orders for dessert."

The maitre de bowed again and left the room.

MacNab giggled.

"She really shouldn't have worn that blouse."

* * *

He felt numb - a mere observer in his own body. His limbs were moving on their own, feet stepping one in front of the other without his approval. He was pretty sure he was limping, in fact he was quite certain his right thigh felt like it was on fire and the right side of his face felt like it had become the victim of an engorgement charm. However, he was only vaguely aware of the pain just as he had only vaguely been aware of the familiar pull on his navel only moments ago.

When Draco looked up he saw they were back on the Malfoy Manor grounds, just inside the main gates. He felt someone squeeze his shoulder briefly and turned his head slightly, but then the hand was gone and the person was passing him - long purposeful strides, robes dramatically swishing behind them. It was definitely Severus Snape and Draco would've smiled at the tell-tales signs of his former professor had he felt remotely capable of it.

The raid had not been a success. In fact, disaster was a much better word for it. And Draco didn't really feel like caring.

_In the beginning, he'd felt nervous, waiting for the portkey to activate, to take them into Muggle territory. Around him, the older Death Eaters were mostly silent - although he heard a few whispered conversations here and there - and the air was full of an excited tension. They were all soldiers preparing to head into battle, to fight in the name of a cause greater than any of them. _

_A tall Death Eater stepped up to him and nodded in greeting. They were all wearing the same cloaks, the same masks, but this man's bearing was proud and regal and the smell of his expensive, French cologne all-too-familiar. Draco returned the silent greeting just as a second Death Eater approached his father and the two exchanged a few hushed words. Then the second one left, passing by Draco as he left and giving him a whiff of a smoky blend of witch hazel, lavender and something else Draco couldn't quite recognize._

_Draco straightened himself up to his full height. These were the men he'd admired since he was a child. And now he was standing by their side, as an equal. He was very glad he was wearing a mask in that moment. Malfoys didn't grin like idiots, after all._

Out of the two dozen Death Eaters that had left the Malfoy Mannor earlier, only 6 of them now walked back up the stone steps. Draco wasn't quite sure what had happened to the rest. He knew he'd seen some apparate away on their own and some were likely captured by the aurors, who'd eventually shown up...

And some of them were dead.

Trudging up to the mannor with him were his father, Snape and his aunt Bellatrix. He wasn't quite sure who the other two were, but he had a sneaky suspicion the larger man behind him was Mr. Crabbe. His aunt was muttering angrily to herself and it was beginning to make its way through the fog around his brain and unnerving him. He shuddered. Until today, she'd always been just an eccentric relative: a little crazy, a bit cruel and not someone he wanted to spend any amount of time with alone.

But now he truly understood. He was terrified. She held so much of his future in her hands... One word from her and the Dark Lord would know about his failure - anyone else might turn a blind eye and simply berate him for it later, but he knew Bellatrix Lestrange wasn't that kind of woman.

_Setting the fire had been easy enough. One of the houses had a huge oak standing next to it. He even charmed the large, metal bin beside it so that it too would burn. In hindsight, that may have been a bad idea. The explosion a few minutes later surprised him and alerted all the Muggles sooner than they'd planned. _

_Of course, Belatrix Lestrange hadn't seemed to mind. After a slight pause, he'd heard her whoop with laughter and declare that the 'festivities' had begun._

_Doors whipped open as Muggles ran out of their houses, confused and slightly panicked. From his spot in the shadows of a particularly tall wooden fence, Draco saw their confusion change to fear as they saw the flames. Then their eyes became wider when they realized there was more than one fire - three of them, each in a different direction, but the one Draco had set was the biggest, the most ferociously burning. There were screams for help and loud crying and it was then that Draco saw a woman climbing out of the top window of the small house._

_She was holding a baby._

_Draco turned and ran towards where he knew the other Death Eaters would be. He couldn't think about this. She was just a Muggle, it was just a Muggle child she was holding. They didn't matter. They **couldn't **matter. If he failed today then his mother..._

_He hadn't even made two steps when a portly man ran out of one of the houses, wearing only enough clothes to cover his privates. Draco stopped. The man didn't notice him, as he was staring intently at the fire and talking loudly into whatever it was he was holding to his ear. Just then several Death Eaters walked into the light of the streetlamps. The man's eyes widened in what seemed to be recognition._

_"Oh Holy Mother of God!" he suddenly screamed loud enough that even Draco could hear it over all the other din coming from behind him. "It's them! The terrorists: th-they're here!"_

_Behind him, the front door to his house opened and a woman with long, blonde hair poked her head out. She called out to the man - Draco couldn't hear the words, but could tell there was concern, but not yet panic in her voice. The man swung around at the sound of her voice._

_"Go back inside, Ellie! Just stay inside; it's dangerous!"_

_Even as he yelled at her, he was already running towards her and the house. Sickly green light hit him in the back and he fell to the ground, face first onto the gravel._

_"Richard!" the woman screamed and abandoned the safety of her house in order to rush to where the man lay motionless._

_There was a second green light and she fell on top of him. As the two Muggles lay there like carelessly thrown-away dolls, Draco couldn't help but notice that, somehow, they looked very human._

_The front door began to open again, but Draco ran down a nearby alley. He didn't want to know who else lived in that house._

_He ran out of the alleyway and turned right. Just as he was passing underneath the window of a house, there was a loud 'bang' and one of the flowerpots above his head exploded. He cried out in surprise and covered his head against the falling dirt and pieces of ceramic pot._

_He looked up cautiously. There didn't seem to be anything strange about the window. Then he heard a triumphant laugh from across the street. When he looked, he saw the strangest-looking old man he'd ever seen. He was barefoot, wearing a long, brown bathrobe over his plain white night clothes. Over top of the bathrobe he was wearing a large, gray vest that looked like it was twice his size and three times his weight. On his head he had a slightly dented, round, metal helmet. He was holding some sort of a strange, stick-like thing that was crooked and wider on one end, and bracing it against his shoulder._

_"Ha! Ha! Bloody terrorists!" the man yelled. "Did you think we'd let ye 'ave this country? We'll ne'er let Britain fall to the likes of you German scum! God save the Queen!"_

_Draco wondered whether he was supposed to understand any of that, but then there were more 'bang' noises and Draco turned his head to the side abruptly as one of the other windows of the house shattered. The man cursed and lowered the thing in his hands slightly. He looked at Draco with narrowed, determined eyes._

_"I won't let you get me family," he said. Then he squinted with one eye as he hoisted the long thing back onto his shoulder and Draco suddenly wished he'd taken Muggle Studies at Hogwarts, because he had a very, very bad feeling about this._

_There was a loud bang and pain exploded in Draco's upper right thigh. He screamed as he fell to his knees, not realizing he'd dropped his wand as he clutched his thigh. He screwed his eyes shut against the pain as unbidden tears began to form._

_"Father?!" he dimly heard a woman scream from across the street. "What're you doing you daft ol' bugger?!"_

_"I's not gonna let a single one o' them Germans step into this 'ere 'ouse!" _

_"Father, them's not Germans; yer fighting the wrong bloody war. Now come inside afore you get 'urt."_

_"You jus' go on and get yerself inside, luv - I've got this one covered."_

_Draco opened his eyes and looked up. Across the street, the man was fiddling with the strange device, but now there was a woman standing just behind him. Draco could barely see her face through the shadows and his own teary eyes._

_He took a deep breath and looked down at his leg. Under the dim light of the Muggle torches, Draco saw that the material of his cloak looked darker just where his hand was. He brought his hand away and blinked. It was covered in blood... he was bleeding?_

_There was another bang._

_Draco froze and then slowly turned his head to the right, where he'd felt something hit him on the side of the face. There was a hole in the wall beside him._

_"Blasted, stupid rifle's gotten old," he heard from across the street._

_"'S not just the rifle. Now leave it and get inside! He's not alone and the others'll come soon enough, I'd reckon."_

_Draco clenched his fists to stop himself from screaming. Suddenly, he realized he was no longer holding his wand. His eyes dropped frantically to the ground and he scanned it. Luckily, it was just within his reach. He reached for it and hissed as the movement made the pain from his leg burn with a new intensity, spreading slowly outward to the rest of his leg. He could feel himself break out in cold sweat. What was this? Was it a curse? A Muggle curse? It had made the flowerpot explode... could it do the same to him if it hit him in the right place?_

_Draco glanced up at the old man and saw him aiming for him once again. Suddenly, the blond wizard realized he really didn't want to die._

_He grit his teeth and reached for his wand. Once he had it he brought it up with a shaking hand and pointed it at the man._

_"Crucio!"_

_The old man screamed and fell to the ground, eyes wide with shock and pain. _

_"Father!"_

_The woman fell to her knees beside the old man as he continued to scream. Her hands hovered over him, as if unsure what to do since there weren't any obvious wounds. She looked up to Draco with furious eyes._

_"You jus' leave 'im alone," she screamed. "'e's just an ol' man, you monster!"_

_She picked up the thing the man had dropped and Draco's breath caught. He panicked. Could they all use this spell?! It didn't matter, the man was down. He couldn't let the woman get him._

_Just as Draco ended his spell on the old man, a ray of sickly green light hit the woman from the side. She fell to the ground with a thud._

_"B-Beth?" the old man rasped. He tried to use all his remaining strength to make his body move so he could see what was going on. _

_However, Draco wasn't paying attention to the two Muggles anymore. Instead, he'd turned to the three Death Eaters that were approaching him. The one in front was twirling their wand._

_"Crucioing an old man, Draco?" a female voice chuckled. "Seems there's hope for you yet, apparently. Now come on, the Dark Lord asked me to personally keep an eye on you."_

_She began to hum some sort of off-tune melody as she passed. _

Draco stumbled slightly as he entered the Malfoy Manor. He hissed as pain engulfed the top part of his leg. Apparently the painkiller Severus had managed to slip him earlier was beginning to wear off. Which was a shame, really, because he'd quite liked the numbness that'd prevented him from actually thinking about what was going on... what might be coming.

They walked past the grand entrance and through a dimly-lit hallway into the ballroom. The Dark Lord was seated on an ornate ebony chair, petting Nagini as he hissed something to her. Nagini hissed back, her tongue flicking out lazily. She lifted her head slightly as the six Death Eaters entered. The Dark Lord, too, looked up, eyeing them each in turn. Draco could've sworn he'd seen a malicious sort of glint in his eyes as he'd looked at him. Then he looked away and motioned to one of several Death Eaters gathered in a semi-circle around him. He whispered something into his follower's ear and the Death Eater quickly bowed and left.

As they approached the gathering, the semi-circle broke and stepped aside to allow the new arrivals to pass though. The Death Eaters removed their masks and knelt before their master.

"It seems all did not go as planned," the Dark Lord stated darkly.

"My apologies, my lord, but it did not," said Lucius. "They seemed to be better prepared than the others before them."

"Hmm, I see they've taken the article seriously then." The Dark Lord frowned slightly. "I'll have to give some thought to what that means. Not that they can do too much against magic. It is still more powerful than anything they have."

Then he grinned and looked directly at Draco. Draco felt his eyes on him, but didn't dare look up. His heart was suddenly beating faster than it had ever beat before.

"Bellatrix, tell me, how did our newest recruit do?"

His aunt chuckled. "He showed some promise at first, my lord. Made an old man scream so beautifully, I was almost willing to take him under my wing." Then her expression changed to one of disgust. "Then he nearly let two Muggles escape. _On purpose_."

Draco flinched. Beside him, he could hear his father's breath hitch.

"Young Mister Malfoy, do you have anything to say to this?"

"I -I'm sorry, my lord, I just, I... they were just children," Draco closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Suddenly, he wished that old man really had managed to use that strange Muggle curse stick to kill him.

_He'd found them in the backyard of one of the houses, huddling behind a bush. Two boys: the younger one couldn't have been more than seven or eight years old and the older one maybe thirteen. They looked up at him with wide, tear-stained eyes full of fear. The younger boy whimpered and pressed closer to his older brother._

_"Please, sir, please don't hurt us," the older one begged. "W-we won't tell anyone nothing, we promise."_

_Draco's heart stopped for a moment. They were children. They were Muggles, and Muggles were slow and stupid and didn't deserve to live, because they were beneath him... But these were children. They weren't like the man before; they didn't have any strange curse sticks. H-he couldn't kill them._

_His mother's face flashed through his mind. He took a slow breath and raised his wand with a hand that was shaking badly. He had to kill them._

_They boys cried out in distress, too terrified to do more than that._

_Just then a gentle breeze blew past Draco. One that normally wouldn't have been noticeable, except that amidst the rapidly spreading fires and screams of terror and pain, it seemed very out of place. For a moment, he thought he could smell roses. Then his hand began to feel heavy, as if being pushed down by some invisible force and he let it fall slightly downwards. The breeze blew past him again, only this time it seemed to blow underneath his mask and into his ear, whispering something he couldn't quite hear. But he felt a warmth in it, one that was kind and reassuring - telling him everything was going to be alright._

_Draco let out the breath he was holding and his wand arm fell to his side, no longer shaking._

_"Go," he rasped. The two boys looked up in surprise, hope shining in their eyes amidst the fear. "Get out of here. Run."_

_They didn't need any more prodding and quickly, the two scrambled to their feet and dashed towards the back of the yard. The moment when they were both enveloped in sickly green light, was when Draco realized everything was very much not alright._

_He whirled around and suddenly found himself facing the furious, mask-less face of Bellatrix Lestrange. She sneered at him._

_"I see you still haven't completely committed yourself to our cause. The Dark Lord will, undoubtedly, be very disappointed."_

"A Muggle is a Muggle," the Dark Lord hissed. "And children grow up to be adults. The only difference is a few years. Such trivial things should not stop you - not if you are truly loyal to me and to our cause."

"My lord, I apologize most deeply for my son's behaviour," his father suddenly said. There was disappointment and anger in his voice, although it was relatively well-hidden behind his usual cool, aristocratic indifference. "It seems I have been a bit negligent about his discipline as of late. I assure you, my lord, that he will be appropriately punished."

Draco held his breath, hoping the Dark Lord would leave it at that. Anything Lucius Malfoy would do to him couldn't possibly be as bad as-

The Dark Lord chuckled and Draco's momentary ray of light died a swift death.

"I appreciate the offer, Lucius, but I'm afraid the fault lies with me," the Dark Lord said.

"My lord?"

"You see, your son seems to have gotten the impression that I do not mean what I say." He paused and Draco froze. "However, I am a man of my word and I _do_ keep my promises."

He motioned to a Death Eater, who was standing beside the doors. "Bring her in."

Draco looked up for the first time since entering the ballroom. He looked back and his eyes widened. Narcissa Malfoy strode towards them, her head held high and determination echoing in her footsteps. Draco couldn't do anything but watch her.

As she reached him, she knelt down and embraced Draco. He clumsily returned the embrace, his body not wanting to listen to him properly.

"Remember that I will always love you," she whispered, before standing up. She smiled down at him and then turned towards the Dark Lord.

"Narcissa?" he heard Bellatrix ask. She seemed confused. "What-why are you here?"

Draco tried to jump to his feet, but nearly collapsed when his right leg exploded in pain at the abrupt movement.

"Mother!"

"_Petrificus totalus_!"

Draco felt his body go completely rigid and he fell to the ground. His eyes widened and he tried to scream, tried to plead. But all he could do was watch as the Dark Lord ignored him and turned to his mother.

"You seem to know what's going on," he said with a slight frown.

Narcissa Malfoy straightened herself to full height and looked down upon the Dark Lord.

"I do. And I give my life willingly to save my son."

The Dark Lord's eyes flashed with anger.

"_Avada kedavra!"_

And Draco felt the world crumbling to the ground before him like a lifeless doll.

* * *

Author's Notes:

**Faith and the Mayor **- The scene I've used is from Season 3, episode 17. I've kept the words and actions the same, just changed Faith's thoughts. Well, until it obviously diverges from the original scene, lol.

**"What a piece of work is a man..." **- _Hamlet_, Act 2, scene 2 (written by William Shakespeare, in case you didn't know). Dermain's answer, "Man delights me not" is a paraphrased version of the end of that same quote.

**Seating arrangement **- The significance of the "Four Shadowy Figures" (although, by now I think I can safely call them the Circle of the Black Thorne) sitting opposite each other along the centre of the table is that it indicates they are all equal. Like the Knights of the Round Table - once they sat at the table, their social status, rank and wealth became irrelevant.

**"Face that launched a thousand ships..." **- Doctor Faust uses this phrase to describe Helen of Troy in Goethe's play _Faust_.

**"We have set thee at the world's centre..." **- Pico della Mirandola, _Oration on the Dignity of Man_.

**"Muggle curse stick" **- Yes, clearly, what the old man's got is a gun. More specifically, an Enfield rifle, which is the type of rifle used by British soldiers during both the first and second world wars. It's a long and simple-looking rifle. My thanks to my brother and Wikipedia in helping me with this one.

Happy New Year!


	13. Chapter 12

Hey guys! Here's a brand spankin' new chapter for you. For all of you who've been wondering about getting some action in this story, well, there's quite a bit of it in this chapter. Having said that, I'd love to hear some constructive criticism since I don't often write action, so I'd love to know how I did or if there's anything I need to pay more attention to when writing.

Thanks so much to everyone who reviewed the last chapter!

Disclaimer: All I own is the prophecy, a few OCs and my computer. Everything else belongs to other people.

* * *

-1**The Prophesy of the Four**

**Chapter 12 **- Of Allies and Enemies

The street was silent. Darkness cloaked the corners where dim lamplight couldn't reach and dark houses blended into the night, as if attempting to hide themselves within their own shadows - only a few front doors had lights on, making them stand out like lonely lighthouses amidst the gloom. All was still. There was no wind, nothing to whistle in between the houses or rustle with tree leaves and fallen paper wrappers. And not a single cloud marred the night sky, displaying a brilliant mosaic of starlight, although their shine didn't quite seem to reach the city below.

To Buffy Summers, it all felt very ominous and her slayer instincts were practically screaming at the wrongness of it all. Or maybe that was just wishful thinking.

She had taken this patrol route alone, feeling the need for solitude and the almost nostalgic sensation of being a lone hunter in the dead of night. Sometimes, she simply couldn't suppress the feeling that she wasn't meant to hunt in a pack.

She turned down another street and sighed in bored annoyance. It was just as still and silent as the last one. A week ago she would've at least encountered the odd drunk or some random, droopy-eyed person walking their dog. Apparently, the article about the strange, ring wraith-like terrorists had had more of an impact than they'd thought it would. Xander and a few of the younger slayers were following a bunch of online forums - which had exploded with debate and speculation - in the hopes someone might eventually turn up, who sounded like they knew what they were talking about.

Buffy froze as something rustled from the alley next to her, hand automatically coming to rest on the hilt of the sword she was wearing underneath her long, white and blue plaid trench coat. She peered into the darkness as a shape detached itself from within the shadow of a trashcan. Buffy unfroze as the shape meowed.

"Damn," the slayer muttered with a slight pout. "Why is it that when you actually want to get attacked, the creepy human-eating baddies go all non-appeary?"

She scanned the alley again, just to be sure, before continuing on. She hoped at least Faith was having more luck - maybe she'd find a giant nest of vampires and Buffy could run to her rescue. Or perhaps, she'd run into this mysterious someone who wasn't a part of the Powers That Be, but was supposedly helping them. She wondered what the odds were that this person was at least slightly less cryptic than the Powers...

When Faith had woken up just after one o'clock in the afternoon and run into the kitchen looking both horribly tired, yet energized, she'd had quite the story to tell them. To think anything concerning Mayor Wilkins had become useful so many years later. The dream had given Buffy back energy she hadn't even known she'd lost. It made her realize, with alarm, that she'd been slowly giving up. But now she knew for sure: Dawn was alive and waiting. And she was determined not to fail her. As was everyone else; Spike was currently 'making acquaintances' of the local vampires to gain information and Giles and Lori were working relentlessly on a way to get Gwen and Vi's memories back.

Buffy arrived at an intersection and looked both ways. She sighed. Once again, both sides of the street looked equally deserted and boring. To the right she saw more houses with barely-lit lights. To the left she noticed an apartment complex rising above the townhouses. So she shrugged and turned left. At least amongst the high-rises, there were potentially more places for vampires and demons to hide. If nothing else it took her closer to Faith's route and if her sister slayer hadn't been any luckier then maybe she'd be up for a midnight spar.

She never noticed the silent shadow that emerged from the side of a house she'd turned her back on.

* * *

"Be on your guard, girl, there's something strange up ahead."

Nymphadora Tonks glanced sideways at the man beside her and nodded curtly. Mad-Eye Moody's magical eye was swirling madly in its socket, a clear sign something dark was nearby. She tightened her grip on her wand as she silently made her way through the alley.

She stepped on something very squishy and made a face, determinedly not looking down to see what it was - how could Muggles stand to let their streets get so disgustingly dirty? And why was it her who had to pull London alley patrol anyway? So what if the Ministry had been getting reports of increased vampire activity that could possibly be linked to You-Know-Who?

Tonks realized she was starting to sound like a teenager inside her own head and pushed all those whiney thoughts to the side. She was an auror and a member of the Order of the Phoenix; she would not be defeated by some dirty, smelly, disgusting alley. She peered ahead, the spell she'd done earlier making it much easier to see in front of her (for some reason, a senior auror had made sure she, out of all the new recruits, learned it during her first week of steady assignments).

A human figure darted across mouth of the alley, light reflecting off long blonde hair.

"Mad-Eye!" Tonks hissed.

"I saw it!" the older auror growled and then they were both running after the figure.

* * *

Buffy added a slight bounce to her step as she did her best 'I'm just out for a stroll, no way am I demon-hunting, no siree' look. Inwardly, she was trying very hard not to grin. She'd first felt them about ten minutes ago and since then they'd been getting closer and closer - following her. And it wasn't just one demon, there were a lot of them. It was going to be a long, hard fight, but that was good. She had a lot of steam to blow, a lot of restlessness to put to rest.

Her left hand absently stroked her sword through the trench coat.

Finally, the blonde slayer exited out of the rows of townhouses and entered a park. It wasn't a large park; some trees and a few benches interspersed amongst the open space. One large, main path ran through it, connecting smaller paths that led from the apartment buildings that towered over everything and made the park feel somewhat enclosed despite its openness.

It was the perfect place for a fight.

Buffy turned off the main path and onto one of the side ones, where she saw a wooden bench. She sat down, crossing one leg over the other, and waited.

The demons following her seemed to hesitate for a moment, but only a moment. Soon she felt them approaching faster than before. She heard their deceptively quiet footfalls in the soft grass, the gentle clinking and harsher squeaking of metal and leather. The controlled, even, almost-not-there sound of their breathing - free from any of the usual growling or grunting - made her frown slightly. This wasn't a normal pack of demons.

Yet she couldn't keep the excited grin from her face when they got so close to her that she could practically smell them. Her left hand slid over the hilt of her sword. It took all of her willpower not to simply jump up and charge. That would be something Spike, or Faith, would do. She had more class and certainly more wit than that.

The demons stopped a few feet away from her. Buffy uncrossed her legs, trying to make it look natural - not like she was preparing to spring into action the second the demons attacked their 'innocent, helpless prey'. For a few moments, no one moved.

"Slayer," said a gravely voice from behind her.

Buffy stiffened. Apparently, they hadn't fallen for the 'innocent, helpless blonde' routine. More to the point, they'd been hunting for her. Suddenly, she wished she'd texted Faith for backup.

"Oh, so you know who I am?" Buffy said out loud, making sure any nervousness was covered by amusement. "Well, that sure saves time with intros." She got up and turned around, putting her hands on her hips and gracing the demons with her cockiest, most arrogant grin. "Since you've decided to shine-y up your best armour and come play with lil ol' me, I hope you've actually got some shiney skills too. 'Cause if killin' twenty of you doesn't even equal half a workout, I will _not_ be a happy slayer."

Several of the demons growled at her. Slowly, she shrugged off her trench coat and folded it onto the bench.

"So, what's the verdict?" she taunted. "Think you can handle this or do I need to pick myself a different catchy song lyric? London demons aren't as lame as the vampires, are they? I mean, seriously, with Mr. Big Bad Dark Lordiness recruiting, you'd think this city would be full of super tough undead, but apparently this guy inspires about as much evil support as the Pope."

"We have nothing to do with wizards," one of the demons in the lead said. "Our master is no ally of Voldemort."

"Oh, and who's your master?"

"He does not concern you."

"Uh, he's sending his goons out to kill me, so I think I should totally be concerned."

The demon growled again and then charged. The others followed. Buffy took a few steps backwards, away from the bench, as they leaped over it nearly in unison.

"So, I take it you're not going to tell me who sent you then," Buffy sighed heavily. She watched from the corner of her eye as the demons began to surround her. She shrugged. "Meh, I can work with that."

She grinned and slowly unsheathed her sword.

* * *

Tonks ran after the blonde. Behind her, she could hear Mad-Eye grunting as he ran, old injuries and age making it more difficult to keep up the pace. She'd long since lost track of exactly where they were in London, the back allies blending into one, big, smelly maze.

And then they nearly ran straight into a congregation in the middle of an open space, where several allies intersected. A group of Muggles were lounging idly atop a series of large packing crates, a dumpster and an old, beat-up car, which were set up at the opening in a tall, stone wall. The opening looked like it had been created by force (possibly thanks to the out-of-place car) and lead into a rather dilapidated-looking yard.

Tonks and Mad-Eye stopped themselves just in time and crouched low in the shadows on either side of the alley to avoid being seen. Tonks was about to give in to the frustration of yet another dead end, when one of the 'Muggles' turned to the blonde they'd been following. One look at his deformed face and inhuman yellow eyes and Tonks realized what they'd found.

"Vampires," she hissed under her breath. Out of the corner of her eye she noticed the older auror nod even as he glared at her for speaking.

"Oi, that bloke Hector an' 'is friends jus' got taken out by some bleeding kid!" the blonde exclaimed as she approached a goliath-sized vampire lounging upside down across the cracked windshield of the car.

"Good," said vampire growled. "I ne'er liked that fecking Yank anyways."

"Which one was he, then?" one of the others asked.

"The red-haired poncy one with the baseball bat," another one replied.

"Got taken out by some kid, ye say?" the goliath asked with apparent interest. "Was it a bird?"

"Uh, no, it was a fella," the blonde answered.

"Wasn't as tough as 'e thought 'e was," said one of the other vampires.

"Yeah, prolly got taken out by some bloody wannabe vampire hunter," another agreed. "Got tons o' them running about nowadays."

"Don't we just, though."

"Oi, Cesar, you want us to go an' get rid o' that there young vampire 'unter?"

The goliath waved them off with a shake of his head. "Nah, t'ain't no point to it, lads. If 'e's any good the 'e can get rid o' some of the competition for us. Then I'll do away with 'im later."

One of the female vampires giggled.

"Perhaps he will be very unlucky and run into Spike," she said with a surprisingly posh accent. "He is in London looking for the Dark Lord, after all."

"Oooh, is he really?" the short-skirted, big-chested vampire next to her squealed. "I wonder if we'll get to meet 'im? Wouldn't that just be groovy?!"

"Maybe ye will, luv," Cesar said with a grin just before he flipped himself over the top of the car and onto his feet. "Maybe I'll go challenge 'im and find out for meself what the fecking deal with 'im is. An' if I 'appen to win, well, all's the better for it."

The posh-sounding female slid elegantly from atop one of the packing crates. She was wearing a simple, dark blue dress that looked like it belonged in an office, except for the slit that had been torn up left side. She went over to Cesar and wrapped herself around his arm.

"If you defeated Spike, you'd become famous," she said. "It'd be almost as good as defeating the legendary Angelus."

Tonks gasped. Angelus? She knew that name. There was a vampire in London that was almost like Angelus _and_ he was looking for the Dark Lord?! She shivered involuntarily. The vampire leader whispered something into the woman's ear and she giggled excitedly.

Just then Tonks heard the familiar whirl of Mad-Eye's eye as it suddenly began to spin faster. Like it did when there was danger close by. She heard a thud behind her.

"Well, well, what 'ave we 'ere?" said a deep, male voice. "Free delivery?"

Tonks spun around and brought her wand up. But the vampire was faster and before she'd even had a chance to think of what incantation to use, her right wrist was grabbed and smashed against stone wall. Tonks yelped at the unexpected pain.

"And such a pretty lil' thing too," the vampire said before he licked the side of her neck. Tonk's eyes went wide as she froze, everything she'd learnt about vampires in her basic training disappearing faster than a snitch in a snowstorm.

Then the vampire screamed and threw her backwards. Tonks flew several metres before crashing into something soft that oomphed before also tumbling to the ground along with her.

"What the hell was that?!" a familiar voice growled at her in annoyance. "Yer supposed to be a trained auror not some blubbering Hufflepuff!"

"Sorry, I wasn't expecting it," Tonks muttered, her cheeks flushing in embarrassment. Of all people to have witnessed that, it just had to be Mad-Eye Moody. Of course, if it were anyone else, she would likely no longer be called Nymphadora Tonks, but simply 'dinner'. Or possibly 'midnight snack'.

"That, I believe, would be the point of a 'surprise attack' and why you're supposed to be constantly vigilant. Now get the hell off me, girl."

"Oh, right, gotcha."

Tonks scrambled to her feet and froze. Behind her, she heard Mad-Eye do the same, only slower and with more grunting involved. In front of her, the goliath named Cesar and his coven were staring at them with malicious smirks and leers on their faces. He waited until Mad-Eye appeared by her side before saying anything.

"Looks li' we've got ourselves a spot o' unexpected company," he said and Tonks realized he wasn't actually surprised by this. "Tell me, what brings you so far away from your safe, lil' homes, _wizards_?"

He said the word 'wizards' in the same way he would 'slime'. This did nothing to ease the little ball of fear settling in Tonk's stomach.

"We're from the Ministry of Magic-" Mad-Eye began.

"Oops, sorry, 'twas a rhetorical question, mate." Cesar grinned and his face morphed until he became yellow eyes and ridges like most of his comrades. "I 'onestly dunna care what yer 'ere for. Something to do with the Dark Lord, no doubt. Well, ye can go back to the ministry an' tell 'em to feck right off. Want nothing to do with you or 'im. S'far as we care, 'tis open season on wizards in this 'ere city."

Tonks blinked and suddenly, Cesar was no longer standing two metres away, but looming over them, eyes glowing.

"So, really, ye should be glad I've decided you two will be my messengers an' I don't kill messengers." He brought a hand up to caress Tonks' cheek in mock gentleness.

"Get your 'ands off 'er you bloody-"

The gentle grip on her cheek suddenly turned to steel and, before she realized what was happening, her head was wrenched to the side and pain exploded down the right side of her neck. She may have screamed. Then the grip was gone and she was staggering backwards, trying to blink away the bright stops in front of her eyes as the world swayed around her. She brought a hand to her throbbing neck and felt something wet. She looked to the vampire in front of her. His fangs and lips were covered in blood.

She swayed and a strong arm steadied her from behind.

"Incendio!"

Laughter followed the spell and Mad-Eye cursed under his breath.

"Now, now, don't ye be getting mad," she heard Cesar calling at them. "I said I wasn't gonna kill you - didn't say I'd be letting you off unharmed. Now ye best be getting out of 'ere, ol' man, afore me mates start getting peckish."

Tonks heard her partner growl under his breath before he grabbed hold of her. And then the world disappeared around her as they apparated away.

* * *

It felt like the fight had dragged on for hours and Buffy was seriously beginning to curse herself for her own stupidity. She really should've called Faith for back-up.

The demons were all melding into one, super strong demon, who simply refused to keel over and die. There were so many of them, fresh ones coming out as if from thin air when their comrades fell. The only reason Buffy knew she was actually killing any of them, was because she had to avoid tripping over their corpses.

She was sweating and panting for breath, her arms definitely feeling the constant strain of blocking blow after hard blow. Blood trickled from the side of her neck and down the front of her ripped shirt, where a she'd only just managed to dodge a potentially lethal blow from the side, while she'd been fighting two demons in front of her. There was more blood flowing from a wound in her left thigh. She honestly had no idea how serious either of the wounds were - she hadn't had the chance to check.

She swung her sword behind her, hearing a grunt as she impaled a demon. Not hesitating even for a second, she pulled the sword free and parried a blow from another demon on her right, using the leverage she got from pushing onto its sword to put extra force into kicking away the one on her left.

Her left thigh spasmed slightly as she put her weight back on it and she hissed at the unexpected pain. Okay, so apparently the wound on her thigh was quite bad.

The demon she was crossing swords with noticed her slight faltering. His eyes widened in triumph and he pushed harder against Buffy's sword, putting his full weight against it. Buffy grit her teeth and pushed back. It was all she could do to keep her leg from buckling.

In a moment of inspiration, Buffy suddenly stopped pushing and let herself fall backwards. The demon clearly wasn't expecting the sudden capitulation and with the force pushing against him gone, he too began to fall forwards.

No sooner had Buffy's back hit the ground, her legs snapped up, catching the fallen demon in his middle and using his own momentum to send him flying over her head and into two of his fellow warriors. Buffy flipped back to her feet, but nearly collapsed again as her left thigh exploded in pain. She leaned forward and grabbed at it with her left hand - her right never letting go of her sword - and took several deep breaths, willing her sudden light-headedness to go away.

However, the demons didn't allow her the reprieve and Buffy only just managed to throw herself to the ground and into a side roll to avoid getting sliced in half from behind.

Her legs were shaking slightly as she stood, breaths from exertion now so deep they were beginning to feel painful. Her sword seemed heavier than usual as she brought it up in front of her again. For a moment, she saw flashes of the last battle on the Hellmouth.

She'd been certain she was going to die there too.

She took a deep breath and tightened her grip on her sword. The three demons closest to her charged at once.

Funny, how the first thing that came to mind was how ticked Giles was going to be at her for not calling anyone and going it alone, when she didn't have to anymore. Although, at least with him around, her friends would have someone to stop them from doing anything stupid this time. And at least Dawn was old enough to take care of herself. Dawn...

She blocked the first of the demons and head-butted him out of the way. Then, she swirled left to avoid the second demon and crossed swords with the third. Apparently, number three hadn't expected her to put up much of a fight, because his full weight wasn't behind his swing. Buffy grinned as she used her full strength to push him several steps backwards. She spun low, kicking his legs from under him.

He'd barely hit the ground when Buffy impaled his neck. The Slayer smirked at the surprised look on his face.

"Sorry, I really can't die here," she said. "I mean, the first time I died it was all heroic and spectacular-like, what with the pretty bright light and saving the world and everything. After that, dieing in some random park would just be so, well, lame. And cliché. I may be blonde, but I don't _do_ cliché."

She pulled her sword out and blocked a battle axe. Her eyes were lit with a determined fire. Dawn was waiting for her. She couldn't let herself die here.

Minutes later, the battle axe-wielding demon fell to the ground in a headless heap. Buffy stood above the body for several seconds, merely observing her surroundings. The demons were falling into a circle formation, surrounding her. Her new-found vigour seemed to have confused them slightly; they were hesitating.

Buffy smirked. Then she looked at the demon directly in front of her and met his eyes. His eyes narrowed as he froze. Buffy smirked menacingly. Then she charged.

It was as if an alien force had taken over her body. Her blood was molten lava, her lungs breathing out steam. There was a roaring inside her head as everything before her passed in a blur. She couldn't see what was in front of her. She didn't care that she couldn't. She didn't think, didn't feel, only moved - her limbs danced, her sword slashed, cutting down her enemies one after another.

And one after another, her enemies fell. Yet, more took their place.

It was a well-placed blow to the back of her head that finally stopped the Slayer's rampage. Buffy fell to the ground and rolled out of the way. A sword pierced the ground where she'd fallen. Buffy lay on her back on the blood-slicked ground and stared at the night sky. Now that she'd stopped and was able to think again, she realized how heavy her limbs felt, how utterly exhausted she was. Her arm could barely lift the sword it was still holding.

A shadow fell across her as the face of some nameless demon took the place of the starry sky. He grinned down at her and lifted his giant sword. Buffy stared at the weapon.

'Huh, guess it's a park, after all,' she thought. 'Maybe they'll name it after me.'

There was a dull thud and suddenly the demon was gone. Buffy blinked in confusion. A new face appeared above her. A much more human-looking one.

"Hey, you must be Buffy Summers," the boy said. He looked about Dawn's age (or perhaps slightly older), with pale skin, shaggy brown hair and piercing blue eyes.

"So they tell me," she replied, confused by his appearance. There was something strange about the boy - she could feel something demony around him (though, that could be due to the massive demon army they were surrounded by). There was also something very familiar about him...

"I'm Connor," he said.

"Um, nice to meet you?"

Suddenly, the boy looked sharply to the side and he disappeared from her line of sight. Sounds of battle reached Buffy's ears. Slowly, she pushed herself up so that she was leaning on her elbows. She frowned in confusion as she saw the boy fighting the heavily armed demon army with a baseball bat. Successfully fighting the demon army with a baseball bat.

At least until he managed to disarm one of his opponents and steal his sword. Then he was fighting them off with a baseball bat and a sword.

Connor... why did that name sound familiar?

She heard the footsteps coming up from behind her, but pretended to be engrossed in watching Connor fight. The element of surprise was not only useful, but also rather fun. Especially when it meant her opponent didn't expect her to block his sword from behind, then twist around in order to get underneath it before lunging, her sword piercing his belly.

She ripped her sword out and ran for the next demon.

And then finally, finally, the last demon fell.

"Gee, is London always this exciting?" Connor asked as he approached Buffy, tapping the flat of his sword against the back of his neck. He surveyed the field of corpses littering the ground.

"Nah, this is just the welcome wagon," Buffy answered, panting heavily. She blinked rapidly as she tried to get her eyes to adjust properly.

"Cool." Connor looked at her and frowned. "Um, are you okay?"

"Yeah, just feel like I fought an army of demons, no big. I'll just go to sleep and wake up all better." She took a few steps towards the bench which her coat was, hopefully, still laying on. She stumbled and hissed as her wounded left thigh decided this was a great time to remind her it was still wounded.

Then there were strong arms helping her stand. She gave Connor a tired smile.

"I'll be fine, really. I'll just call Giles to send the slaymobile to pick me up."

"Slaymobile?"

"Slang for Xander in an SUV."

"Right, got it."

She stumbled again and Connor's grip tightened. Then they were at the bench and Buffy sat down - or possibly plopped down, but by this point she was beyond caring which it was. She let out a sigh of relief, before looking up at the mysterious boy. She frowned.

"Have we met before?" she asked, blinking as she tried to convince her eyes they did, in fact, want to work. "'Cause I think I know your eyes."

And then her eyes really did stop working. Not that she was actually aware of the fact, since she wasn't really aware of anything anymore.

Connor caught the unconscious slayer as she fell and gently laid her out onto the bench. Then he took out his cell phone and dialled the number his dad had given him.

* * *

Dawn guessed it was about mid-day, judging by the size of the patch of sunlight in the corner of her cell. Which meant there would be another shift change soon. She really, really hoped it was the blond. Her conversation with his mother the night before had left her full of bad vibes and antsy nervousness. And Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dumber somehow seemed more subdued than usual.

Something had happened last night. She was sure of it.

Just then she heard the tell-tale scrape of the dungeon door slowly opening. She stilled, barely breathing to make sure she didn't miss anything. The two guards practically ran past her cell.

"Draco!" one of them called. He sounded worried.

Dawn heard the dungeon door close and the running footsteps stopped. There were a few moments of silence.

"We-we heard what happened," one of them said quietly.

"We're sorry," said the other one. Dawn didn't quite catch the reply, just a series of low mumbles in which she at least managed to recognize Draco's voice.

A few minutes of whispered murmurs later, Dawn heard the two bigger boys leave. Draco's footsteps seemed to echo more than usual as they approached her cell. He passed by slowly, his head slightly bowed, eyes clearly not seeing anything before him. He didn't even glance into Dawn's cell as he passed. Dawn frowned. He was also limping slightly.

It took him a lot longer than usual to finish his round of the cells and slump down into the chair by her cell. He completely ignored her in favour of staring at the ground. Dawn recognized that look.

"Um, hey," she called out. Draco started, as if he'd completely forgotten where he was, or at least hadn't expected her to be there (as if she'd have gone anywhere). She cleared her throat. "So, your face seems to be doing this frown thing and, um, did something happen?"

"'S none of your business, Muggle," he answered gruffly, although the comment lacked its usual sting.

"And here I thought we'd already established my name is Dawn. Starts with a 'D' like dragon, not 'M' like monster."

"I don't care."

"Well you sure seem to be caring about whatever it is that's got your panties in such a bunch. What, did the Society for Evil Overlords-to-be reject your application? Did they think you weren't evil enough or do they just not like blonds?"

"Just be quiet!"

"It's because you're blond, isn't it? Don't feel bad, just keep going at it. There's definitely no rule that blonds can't be evil. I mean, Glory was blonde. Also a bit crazy, so maybe you just need to go insane... Oooh, Darla was blonde. And Spike's a pretend blond, though he isn't evil anymore, so maybe he doesn't really count-"

"I said shut the bloody hell up!"

Dawn looked back to Draco. He was standing now, glaring down at her with an intensity that would've likely set her on fire had he the ability to do so (and she was feeling very glad he didn't). His fists were clenched at his sides, one holding his wand. He was shaking, but behind the fury, Dawn could clearly see the grief.

"What the hell do you know?!" Draco screamed at her and Dawn suddenly wondered if maybe she hadn't pushed a little too much. "You're nothing but a stupid Muggle! All you ever do is sit inside that cell and-"

"'Cause that's so my choice," she rolled her eyes, trying not to appear as nervous as she was. "You know, you could let me go and then I wouldn't be annoying you by just sitting around in this cell all day."

"That would be treason."

"Well, it doesn't seem like loyalty's gotten you very far."

Dawn hadn't even realized there was a nail to hit, but the look that passed by the boy's face told her she'd managed to, not only find it, but completely shatter it, anyway. Damn. Draco pointed his wand at Dawn. His eyes were hard.

"Muggles are useless, pathetic creatures that don't deserve to live," he said, his now-emotionless voice scaring Dawn.

For the first time, since she'd woken up inside this cell, she realized just how helpless and vulnerable she was and that, despite his bratty, arrogant behaviour, Draco was a dark wizard. She remembered what had happened the last time this boy had drawn his wand at her. Her body remembered the pain, the endless, excruciating pain that hadn't allowed her to think...

Dawn took a deep breath, pushing away the on-coming panic, and did what any Scoobie would do. She chuckled nervously and began to babble.

"Oh come on, you don't really believe that, do you? That's like saying that cats or dogs or-or elephants don't deserve to live. All part of the circle of life and such, you know? And you really shouldn't mess with the circle. Oh, except for cockroaches and brussel sprouts - you can totally rid the world of cockroaches and brussel sprouts. I'm completely convinced they must be mistakes on the evolutionary ladder-"

"The only mistake here is that you're alive and she's not."

Dawn winced. He didn't even sound annoyed. Apparently, he wasn't going to be swayed by meaningless babble. She saw the tip of his wand begin to glow and her eyes widened.

"No," she whispered. "Please, don't."

The glow was turning into a yellow-y colour. She recognized that colour; it was the same colour that had hit her just before the pain did. Just like she remembered that pain, she remembered the yellow haze that had surrounded her mind.

"Cru-"

She brought her hands up in front of her face - as if her bare hands could protect her from the spell. She grit her teeth wishing Draco and the pain would just go away from her.

But the pain never came. She heard Draco cry out in surprise and then there was a dull thud just outside her cell. Dawn opened her eyes and peeked out from behind her arms.

Draco was laying in a crumpled heap against the wall behind him. Dawn blinked in surprise and brought her hands down.

"Huh?" she said.

Just then, Draco groaned and gingerly felt the back of his head, where he'd apparently hit the wall. Then he froze and looked up at Dawn. He met her own astonished look with wide eyes filled with disbelief. Slowly, he stood up, wincing as he put pressure on his right leg.

"You- you said you were a Muggle," he breathed.

"Uh, actually, no I didn't," Dawn answered despite her confused daze. "_You_ said I was a Muggle. _I_ told you to call me Dawn."

"So, you're a witch, then," Draco asked with a frown.

"Not really, no-"

Dawn was interrupted by the sound of the dungeon door opening. Both of them froze. Dawn kept her eyes on Draco to gauge his reaction to the newcomer. Draco, meanwhile, reached for his wand only to realize he did have it on him anymore. His panicked scrambling to find it made Dawn giggle. Finally, he spotted it on the ground just outside Dawn's cell.

He swooped down to pick it up and then straightened back to a more dignified-looking stance. He even ran a hand through his hair to smooth it down. He relaxed slightly when he noticed who was approaching.

"What are you doing here?" he demanded haughtily.

"Master Snape asked me to deliver this potion," a female voice answered. "He said it was for your leg."

The woman came into view and Dawn's eyes narrowed. The woman looked very ordinary with dark, wavy hair that was tied back into a pony tale. She was wearing a very plain, brown robe. Yet, there was something about her that made Dawn wary. Although, perhaps that was because she was the first person she'd seen in this castle, who looked like they spent any amount of time outdoors.

The woman kept her eyes lowered as she handed Draco a vial. Draco accepted it without a word and then downed the contents. He made a face before handing the vial back.

"Tell Severus I thank him for the potion," said Draco.

The woman took the vial back and bowed slightly. But then, just as she was turning to leave, her eyes met Dawn's and she paused. The look she gave Dawn was surprisingly blank, as if she wasn't quite sure what to make of her.

"Was there anything else?" Draco asked with a slight growl to his voice.

"No, nothing," the woman answered.

She turned away and left, the dungeon door quietly closing after her.

* * *

Severus Snape closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He regretted closing his eyes almost immediately, and they flew open mere seconds later. It was there, within the depths of the darkness, that the horrifying image of Narcissa falling lifelessly to the ground was replayed over and over again.

He clamped down tightly on any emotions he had as he inhaled the potions fumes from the cauldrons simmering beside him. Not even here, in what counted as his temporary sanctuary, surrounded by his work, did he find peace. Neither did the complex, completely unknown potion the Dark Lord had assigned him yesterday, provide the necessary distraction for his thoughts.

"Severus!" a loud, very drunk, voice called from the bench by the door. "Do you remember our fifth wedding anniversary party? Avery got drunk and tried to make a pass at Bella, except that it was Regelus, because he kept his hair long back then! Cut it right afterwards, I believe!"

Severus pinched the bridge of his nose. Of course, the drunk blond in the corner of the room might've been the real reason he was unable to concentrate.

Lucius had been like this since about four in the morning, when reality had finally wormed its way through the shock and he'd realized his wife was dead. Half an hour and a bottle of something or other later, Severus had been the first to find out. Since then, the blond wizard had been alternating between loud reminiscing, angry ranting, sloppy sobbing and drinking whilst staring into space. Severus had given up trying to be a sympathetic friend two hours into the ritual when it became clear Lucius didn't really care what his responses were, so long as he had someone to talk at.

And so Severus had manuvered them both into his potions lab in the hopes that perhaps the fumes would make his friend pass out faster. So far, that plan was a complete failure.

Severus carefully measured out the ground unicorn horn before adding it to the simmering potion. He stirred twenty times counter-clockwise and added three sticks of cinnamon bark (which, as far as he was concerned, was likely there purely for taste and he would've normally left it out, except that he had no idea what the potion itself was supposed to do). The potion had three parts, this first part requiring two weeks of sitting in a cool, damp place. It was also the simplest part of the potion. The other two parts required ingredients Severus would have to research, because they were so rare he'd never actually heard of them. Which did not bode well for completing the potion, but he wasn't about to tell the Dark Lord that until such a time it became clear he would be unable to acquire them.

He watched the potion simmer and slowly change colour, become paler by the minute. He lowered the heat again.

And suddenly realized the lab had become very, very quiet. Severus frowned. Had Lucius finally managed to pass out? He tore his eyes away from the bubbling liquid and glanced over his shoulder at the table. It was empty. He swore and spelled the fire away from beneath the cauldron, before racing out of the lab.

Lucius didn't handle pain well and, when angry, tended to take his anger out on everything around him. And angry, drunk Lucius would undoubtedly do something incredibly foolish.

Severus ran down the hall, towards the kitchens. Perhaps he was lucky and Lucius had just gone to take his anger out on some hapless elves. As he rounded a corner, he saw the servant girl pass by. He grabbed her by the upper arm and spun her around. She let out a little surprised noise and stared up at him with slightly dazed eyes (which was pretty much her normal state of being, he thought).

"Have you seen Lucius, I mean, Master Malfoy?" he demanded.

She blinked up at him. "Er, yes, sir, I just passed him," she said. "He was heading towards the dungeons, I think."

Severus let go of her and ran towards the dungeons. Draco was on guard duty right now. The boy was feeling enough pain and guilt right now - he was in no position to be able to stand up to or fend off his father.

He was almost at the dungeon door when the screams began.

In a matter of seconds, Severus had his wand out and was flinging open the dungeon door. Inside, the screams were much louder and definitely more familiar. He immediately spotted Lucius underneath the torch a little further in. He didn't hesitate to raise his wand.

"Expelliarmus!" he cried.

The screams stopped abruptly as Lucius's wand sailed smoothly into Severus's left hand. Lucius whirled around to face the intruder.

"Stupefy!"

A bolt of red lightning hit Lucius square in the chest and the blond wizard fell backwards onto the stone, dungeon floor. For a few moments the dungeons were silent except for Severus's wheezed panting and Draco's whimpers of pain.

Once he'd managed to catch his breath, Severus slowly made his way to the two Malfoys. He spared Lucius a quick glance, just to make sure he hadn't shattered his skull on impact with the floor. Then he knelt down beside Draco, who was laying curled up on his side, trembling slightly. He took a vial out of his robes.

"Draco, here, this will help with the pain," he said, holding it out.

Draco opened his eyes and slowly reached out for the vial. He downed the potion and then closed his eyes again, taking a few deep, calming breaths.

"I-is he going to be okay?" a quiet voice asked.

Severus's head snapped up and he met worried green eyes. Aah, he'd almost forgotten about the girl whom Draco seemed to have formed some sort of a strange friendship with. She seemed a bit frightened. He remembered Draco mentioning how she wasn't being effected by the dementors. Her eyes were still clear. He could see sadness and fear, but none of the haunted depression that should've been present thanks to the dementors. Perhaps there truly was something in her that warranted further investigation. Later.

"He'll be fine," he stated gruffly and turned his attention back to Draco.

A few quick healing spells later, the painless potion had begun to take effect and Draco managed to stand up. Clearly embarrassed by what had happened, he declared he needed to make his round of the cells and slowly limped away.

Severus sighed. Then he enervated Lucius and shoved a calming potion down his throat, before dragging the drunkard out of the dungeons.

* * *

Faith strolled down a street. She didn't really know which street it was, except that she was pretty sure it was named after some sort of plant. There was a bank and several small shops along the street, in between the houses that were probably subdivided into apartments. All in all, nothing overly interesting.

And everything was so quiet. Faith wasn't used to quiet anymore; she was used to having several noisy girls with her chatting in the background. Giles had them all individually scouring the city for any demon army leftovers with specific instructions to _call for backup _if they ran into _anything_.

And with Buffy resting and recuperating (and finally conscious), she was the senior slayer on the streets.

Suddenly, Faith stopped, her body alert, as she looked around. There was something here, close by - something powerful. Slowly, she resumed walking down the street. The presence got stronger. Then she saw a figure up ahead, dressed in white and perched atop a mailbox.

Faith reached for her sword.

A few steps closer and she realized the figure was a woman. She was pale with long, blonde hair that looked rather limp and tangled. She wasn't really doing anything except sitting atop the mailbox, staring at the night sky and humming to herself.

All in all, she looked like an asylum escapee. Except for the aura. There was definitely no mistaking the demonic aura the woman was giving off - although there was something strange about it as well and Faith was suddenly reminded of Illyria.

Faith unsheathed her sword as she came to stand only a few feet away from the woman. If she was a demon, then there was no way Faith's approach would've gone unnoticed, yet the strange woman didn't acknowledge her. She merely continued to stare up at the stars. Faith narrowed her eyes at her. She certainly didn't look like one of the demons who'd attacked Buffy last night, but that had been the army. This innocent-looking, yet clearly not really innocent creature, could very well be the Big Boss. Appearances could be deceiving, after all.

"Good evening, Slayer," a sing-song voice broke the silence and Faith stared for a few seconds before she realized it had been the demon woman. "Tiamat roars into the night and Loki hides the stars."

"Who are you?" Faith asked, wondering if Loki was some sort of weird demonic cloud.

"I told the boy I was Phythia."

Faith raised her eyebrows as she lowered her sword slightly. "And are you?"

"I have been called that before."

For the first time, the woman actually looked at Faith and the slayer nearly gasped as milky eyes found her without fail. The woman cocked her head.

"Fuck me, you're crazy _and_ blind?!"

"I cannot see what you see. But I can see what you cannot."

Faith groaned. "Don't suppose you could help 'see' the demon army and their absent leader, 'cause that's something I sure ain't seein' too well right now."

"The army is defeated, though the threat is not gone. Never gone. Not until the end."

"End of what? The world? The world cup? Survivor whatever the hell number they're on?"

The blind woman laughed and it sounded so innocent and care-free Faith could do nothing but blink for a moment. This was really the strangest demon she'd ever met. For a moment she couldn't help but wonder whether this wasn't all just some bizarre dream and in reality she'd not only found the demon army, but also managed to get herself knocked unconscious by them.

Faith shook her head. No, doubting her instincts was bad. The woman may look harmlessly crazy, but she was definitely a demon.

"Right, so as totally interesting as this conversation is not, could we get to the part where I'm a slayer and you're a demon and that kinda makes us mortal enemies or whatever. Unless you're some sort of new variety of non-evil demon? In which case, I got evil demons to hunt and slay."

The demon's head turned sharply to look at Faith and the slayer took a startled step backwards. The blind eyes seemed to bore into her, looking into her soul.

"We did not know evil," she said in a low voice, laced with something sinister, and Faith suddenly truly felt the power coming off this being. "We simply were. We lived and fought and died. Then you stepped into the light and the Earth granted you her blessing. You looked at us; you named us evil. Evil was your creation. When I fell blind, all this I saw; that the future would be yours. We had the power to destroy, but the Earth gave you the power to create. Humans create and then they destroy. The cycle-"

"-goes on and on, blah, blah, blah." Faith interrupted her as she rolled her eyes. "Whatever. I'm the Slayer, end of story. I kill demons, not listen to their long-winded speeches. I mean, if I wanted to bore myself to death with philosophy talk, I would've gone to the library and taken one of those big musty books off Giles's desk."

The demon had gone silent. She was staring at Faith with her head cocked.

"Heed my words, Slayer, for death is not always an end, as birth is not always a beginning. I have seen the beginning and many, many ends."

She looked back to the sky and sighed dreamily. Before Faith had the chance to ask what she'd suddenly realized, she spoke again.

"Most snakes slither on the ground,

but one will wish to soar.

Of apples he would like to taste

and in two days destroy

what took seven to create.

Power taken from the lake,

will start the evening knell.

Heros, legends must unite

and the Four shall fight as well."

The woman/demon/whatever laughed again, as if being horribly, painfully cryptic was the most delightful thing in the world. And then the wind around them picked up, scattering leaves, dust and stray candy wrappers. When it died down, she was gone.

Faith just stood there, staring at the mailbox. She reached into her jacket pocket, took out her cigarettes and lit one.

"Yup, definitely knew her when I saw her," she muttered to herself, before turning around and heading back to the Watcher's Council.

* * *

Connor was sitting at the kitchen table eating what the young slayers had dubiously named spaghetti and tomato sauce, when Buffy hobbled in. Connor looked up briefly and nodded in greeting, before turning his attention back to his meal. He looked up again several moments later when he realized the girl hadn't moved from the doorway.

"Um, hi?" he said. "You feeling better, I take it?"

Buffy snorted. "If by 'feeling better' you mean no longer unconscious and half-dead, then yes." She frowned. "You're, uh, Connor, right?"

"Yeah. Didn't Mr. Giles tell you I was coming?"

"Huh, you know Giles?" Buffy blinked. "How do you know Giles? Are you the son of some Watcher- wait, you're not related to Quinton Travers? Please tell me you're not related to Quinton Travers."

"I'm not related to Quinton Travers."

"Oh good, 'cause-"

"Well, if it isn't the mini-poof!"

Connor growled at the bleach-blond vampire, who had chosen that particular moment to enter into the kitchen through the back door. Buffy stared at the boy.

"You know, I don't care if you call my dad by whatever weird nicknames you spend your undead time inventing, but please leave me out of them," he said.

"Yes, how is dear ol' pappy doing anyway?" Spike asked with a dark chuckle. Buffy stared at Spike.

"Probably spending lots of time not sun tanning at the beach."

"Um, could you two time-out here for a sec?" Buffy interrupted them. "I feel like I'm running towards the endzone and missing the quarterback."

"Huh? Why would you need the quarterback if you're running towards the endzone?" Connor asked with a frown. "Unless he hasn't thrown the ball yet..."

Buffy rolled her eyes. "Whatever, that's totally not the point."

"Well, no, if you're going to make a football analogy you should at least get it right."

Buffy glared at him. "Well sorry if the demons, vamps and other hellmouth visitors took up too much of my time for me to learn the finer things about football."

Connor opened his mouth to speak, but Buffy didn't give him a chance to.

"Aaanyway," she said, "as I was going to say: how come everyone knows you and I don't?"

"Uh, well I don't quite think everyone-" Connor began.

"Like I said, he's the mini-poof!" Spike interrupted with a grin.

"Cut it out, _Blondie Bear_!"

"Oi, where'd you 'ear that one from?!"

Buffy groaned. Apparently, she was destined to never find out about this strange boy.

"He is the son of Angel," Illyria's voice broke through the bickering.

Buffy blinked, looking to Illyria for any sign she was joking. Of course, two seconds later, she realized the ex-god king probably wouldn't know how to joke if the fate the world depended on it - assuming she'd even care about the fate of the world. So instead she looked at Connor and blinked some more.

Connor, in turn, seemed to be rather uncomfortable with her scrutiny.

"Ehem, so I guess Mr. Giles didn't tell you about me after all," he said.

"That would be no," Buffy answered absently. She frowned. "Wait, how is that even possible? And with _who_? And how - actually I think the how is the more important question here."

"My mother's name is Darla and the rest is a really long story. It involves a prophecy, an ancient demon who wanted to become a goddess and some incorporeal dimension demon with a grudge."

"Definitely sounds like campfire story material. And wait, isn't Darla- no, you know what-" Buffy raised her hands in front of her in a 'stop' motion. "-I don't think my head could take that much explainy right now. It's too full of stampeding demon army right now."

Buffy limped over to the kitchen table and carefully sat down, trying not to jar her left leg too much. She turned to Connor with a friendly smile.

"So, first of all, thanks for the help with the never-ending demon army from where ever. Oh!" Buffy frowned. "I never did find out who'd sent them."

"Shouldn't be too hard to find out," said Spike from where he was leaning against the counter. "Can't be too many 'round 'ere with that sort o' fire power."

Buffy nodded briefly to Spike, before turning her attention back to Connor.

"Anyway, what brings you to jolly ol' England?" she asked.

Connor shrugged. "Not much, just taking the summer and doing the 'backpack across Europe' thing. Dad said it'd be a great idea and called Mr. Giles to see if I could stay here while I was in London."

"Oh, sounds like fun. Well, except for the getting attacked on your first night part."

"I'm thinking of it more as saving the damsel in distress."

Buffy pouted as Spike snickered. "I'm not a damsel."

"But you were in distress," Connor pointed out.

"Maybe, a little..." Buffy looked to Spike and snapped out of her pout. "So, did you manage to find anything?"

Spike shook his head.

"Found a hidden platform at King's Cross Station and some weird-looking hidden houses, but no shopping district," he said.

"This city is full of hidden magic," said Illyria. "I can feel it, but it all feels the same."

"So basically we're back to the needle-in-a-haystack approach," said Buffy. "Damn."

Connor frowned.

"What are you guys looking for?" he asked.

"The entrance to a magical mall," said Buffy. "Spike's figured out you can get in through a pub, but it's not in the phone book, so we're stumped."

"What kind of mall has a pub as the entrance?" asked Connor.

"A wizard one, apparently," said Spike. "And you'd think anything called the Leakey Cauldron would be a tad memorable."

"Wait, you said it was called the Leaky Cauldron?"

"Yup," Buffy answered.

"Oh, I passed by it today."

The kitchen suddenly became extremely quiet as Buffy, Spike and Illyria all stared at Connor.

"You. Passed. By. It?" said Buffy blankly.

"Um, yeah. I tried to take a picture of it, but it wouldn't appear on my digital camera. I was gonna borrow a battle axe and go back tomorrow."

"How's about we change that plan a bit," said Spike. "You grab a sharp weapon of your choosing and we go there tonight."

Connor shrugged again. "Sure, that works too."

"Woah, hang on, but you just got here!" Buffy protested. "Big demon battle plus jetlag.? You should totally rest first."

"Nah, I'm good." Connor said in a matter-of-fact way. He made eye-contact with her. "Not quite human, remember?"

"Oh. Right."

"Well, then let's go off to see the wizard!" Spike exclaimed with barely disguised excitement. He then turned to Illyria. "You know, I think threatening wizards is going to turn into a new hobby soon."

"Just so long as I don't have to slay you for it," Buffy joked.

Spike grinned as Connor stood up and stretched.

"So, where would I find the weaponry stashed?" he asked with a predatory glint in his eye.

* * *

Please review!

Also, one of my betas has gotten really busy with RL, so is no longer able to beta this story. If there's anyone interested in taking over and editing future chapter, please let me know. I'd absolutely love to get someone who can double check my grammar and spelling and make sure I keep my characters in-character (I have a tendency to be too nice to the characters I like) - especially the HP crew. I have the whole thing plotted out, but sometimes I need to run ideas by someone else to make sure what I'm thinking actually makes sense. The help would be greatly appreciated!


	14. Chapter 13

Wohoo, I return from vacation with a new chapter for you guys! Even better, the next one's also done... not betaed yet, but done. So, should be up in about a week or so.

My thanks to my wonderful betas **Gwen** and **biblios**!

Disclaimer: All I own is a computer and an overactive imagination. And the prophecy... can't forget the prophecy...

* * *

**Prophecy of the Four**

**Chapter 13 -** Final Calm

The sun was just beginning to peek out from behind the London skyline, the clouds and sky already painted a lazy pink and blue. Only a slight breeze blew through the gradually awakening city - not enough to chase away the humidity, just enough to tease. It was going to be another hot day.

In the midst of the early morning, the Watcher's Council stood silent. Heavy drapes hung over the windows and no shrill alarms or out-of-tune radio stations could be heard from within. As the rest of London slowly came to life, this building remained asleep.

The Watcher's Council was surrounded by a tall, stone wall, which muffled much of the usual city's noise. In the back, there was a large yard. Once, it had likely been a spectacular garden, filled with multitudes of brightly-coloured flowers, trees and shrubs, all pruned to perfection as was the custom of that time. The building's current inhabitants had no need for such frivolity, nor the time to cultivate it. Now, the garden was a simple yard, with a lush, green lawn and several large trees. It was a perfect place to go and sit under the shade of a tree, to relax and meditate - and play with sharp objects that didn't belong inside the house.

It was within the walls of this peaceful yard that the wind suddenly began to pick up. At first it was gradual, but soon a full-blown gale was whipping through, knocking down an empty rain barrel and a rake and pulling healthy leaves from the surrounding trees. As it grew in strength, the gale began to swirl around one spot. And then there was a light. It glowed from the centre of the windstorm, growing until it was the size and shape of a person.

The light began to recede and slowly feature became visible, starting with bright red hair that blew away from the figures face and bright green eyes that were open wide and glowing slightly on their own. The figure was a woman. She floated several inches above the ground with her arms spread outwards like wings.

Suddenly, the light was gone along with the wind. The woman remained. She floated down to the ground and her arms dropped to her sides. She was panting heavily; a bead of sweat trickled down her brow.

From the corner of her eye, she noticed one of the heavy drapes on the top floor move. She smiled slightly. Her smile faltered as she swayed a little.

The petite redhead barely had the time to register the back door to the kitchen opening as exhaustion overtook her.

* * *

Pink and blue-tinted light streamed through several small windows and into the spacious basement room. Or at least it would've appeared spacious had it not been such a jumbled mess of books, bottled body parts, drying herbs, dirty rags, chemistry sets and - for some inexplicable reason - a large flatscreen television and Wii gaming console.

A large, lumbering figure swept the workroom floor. It was at least a head taller than any average man and at least twice the width, its face carrying a mere vague shape of human features. This was clearly not a creature of flesh and blood. Rather, it looked like it had been moulded out of brown clay - though certainly not by a sculptor with any talent beyond that of a small child.

It suddenly paused in its sweeping and a shapeless head looked up at the cluttered worktable that dominated the centre of the room. Slowly, the creature leaned the broom against a bookshelf and walked over the far side of the table, where a large, stone bowl sat on a pedestal surrounded by four crystals. The liquid inside was glowing green.

Moments later, the creature was lumbering out the door to deliver the news to its master.

It was almost a full fifteen minutes later that its master practically flew through the door. The old, long-bearded man took one look into the stone bowl before taking out a sheet of parchment. A few moments, and several muttered curses, of scrambling later and he was scribbling a note down in pen. Once he'd finished, a large clay bird (or something that sort of looked bird-like) landed on the table.

He sealed the parchment with black wax using a stamp he wore around his neck - a circle with thorns - and gave it to the bird. The bird flew off. The message it carried was simple: "Willow Rosenberg has arrived."

* * *

Hermione took her morning _Daily Prophet _from the barn owl at her window, thanking it before it flew off. The newspaper never actually had anything interesting, or accurate, in it, but getting it every morning at least made her feel that she was attempting to keep informed.

She unfolded the newspaper and glanced at the front page. Her eyes widened and she gasped. Moments later, the door to her dormitory swung closed behind her as she ran downstairs to find Ron and Harry.

* * *

Meanwhile, members of the Order of the Phoenix were already gathered inside the bright little cottage that was the summer home of Minerva McGonagall. With 12 Grimmauld Place having been compromised a year ago, the order moved their meeting places each time. This time, it was the former deputy headmistress's turn to host it. Not many people knew where she spent her summers, so it was a near perfect meeting place.

The small sitting room was rather crowded even though the entire Order wasn't present. Many simply couldn't make it on only a few hours notice. Minerva McGonagal walked in with a tray of tea and set it down on the small, oaken coffee table in the centre of the room, bidding everyone to help themselves as she transfigured the two bird statuettes on either side into about a dozen rose-pedaled tea cups. She frowned in annoyance at the expression of wonder Nymphadora Tonks had on her face as she looked around at room, her eyes constantly drifting back to the shelf full of porcelain figurines of mice (some of whom wore clothes of both muggle and wizard variety and carried on amicable conversations with each other as more ordinary mice darted around them) as she petted an embroidered cushion featuring a pair of mice darting around a bush of wild strawberries.

Her attention was thankfully disturbed as Kingsley Shacklebolt was the last to arrive. He greeted everyone with a curt nod, before Mad-Eye Moody cleared his throat loudly, stopping all conversation in the room.

"Right then, I suppose everyone who's going to be here is here, so let's get on with this," said Mad-Eye, looking sternly around the room. He threw the _Daily Prophet _onto the table, rattling on the tea cups in the process. "I'm assuming you've all already seen this."

There were many nods.

"Um, well, actually, I haven't had the chance yet," said Mrs. Weasley. "I usually don't get the chance to until Arthur's gone to work."

Mad-Eye scowled at her as if to say that was hardly an excuse, but he explained anyway.

"Greyback's dead. Murdered. And not by a wizard."

Mrs. Weasley gasped and exchanged looks with her two eldest sons, whose eyes had widened.

"What do you mean, not by a wizard?" she asked Moody with a confused frown. "How can you be so sure?"

"He was run through with a lead pipe. Had a couple broken ribs and considerable bruising as well. Not exactly a wizard's style. In fact, it looked like he'd gotten into a fight with whoever killed 'im."

"Oh my!"

"Wait a minute, Alastor," said Minerva, "I don't believe most of that information was mentioned in the article."

"No, it wasn't," Kingsley Shacklebolt confirmed, frowning at Mad-Eye. "How do you know about it?"

Mad-Eye shrugged. "I read the actual report. There's a lot the ministry didn't tell the _Prophet_ about this case."

"Does the ministry actually know who killed him?" Remus asked from his perch on the couch end beside Tonks.

"No. They 'aven't the foggiest. Only thing we know is that 'e was killed in an alleyway in Muggle London several days ago. T'was the Muggle authorities who found 'im and it was only by accident we stumbled upon it."

"Yeah, as we were looking for vampire victims, actually," added Tonks before shivering slightly.

"Are you alright?" Remus asked as he placed a hand on her shoulder. She brought her hand up to meet his and smiled.

"Yup, I am. Just had a bit of scuffle with some vampires last two nights ago. Nearly became dinner for one of 'em."

Remus's eyes widened and his grip tightened.

"She's fine," Mad-Eye growled and both Remus and Tonks flinched slightly. "And she would've been even more fine had she remembered to remain vigilant."

"Still, what were you two doing chasing vampires?" asked Molly. "I thought the werewolves were the problem. Or are the vampires joining You-Know-Who now as well."

"We know from our sources that You-Know-Who's been recruiting from overseas," Moody answered. "And it seems there's been a lot o' vampires coming in from America especially, so we were sent to take a look at things."

"Really?" Remus frowned. "But I haven't heard anything about increased vampire problems in London..."

"Exactly. We know they're coming here, but for whatever reason, we're not really seeing any evidence."

"Which is both good, because it means people aren't getting hurt, and bad, because they might be up to something bigger than just causing trouble," Kingsley speculated. Moody nodded in agreement.

"And there's also some really dangerous vampire in London, too," Tonks piped up. "We overheard a group of 'em talking. Were comparing 'im to Angelus and said 'e's apparently looking for the Dark Lord."

"That definitely doesn't sound good," commented Bill Weasley. He turned to Moody. "Is this something you want the Order to look into?"

"No. It's not good, but at the moment 's not really a problem either. The auror department's investigating it."

"Don't suppose you've 'eard of 'im?" Tonks asked, turning to Remus. "'is name's Spike, apparently."

Remus frowned.

"I'm not sure," he carefully answered. "The name sounds somewhat familiar, but I couldn't tell you where from." He shrugged. "I can ask around for you, though."

"That would be helpful, Remus," said Moody. "Greyback's death is no doubt a setback for You-Know-Who, but we certainly don't want some vampire coming in and taking 'is place. We'll also need you to go to the werewolves again and see if you can find out what they're planning to do now that their pack leader's dead."

"I understand, I'll do what I can and get back to you."

Moody nodded.

"Well, that's about how things stand," the senior auror said. "No point in keeping you all any longer. If ye hear anything, let me or Tonks there know."

There were numerous nods and assents, promises to ask around and keep ears peeled for information and then the members were setting teacups down on the table, thanking Minerva for tea, before they gradually all apparated away to their normal lives.

* * *

The silence in the dungeons was awkward and annoying, but Dawn couldn't think of a single thing to say that would lift it. Draco was staring into space and brooding - in the exact same position he'd been in for the past hour.

Dawn was bored. But she didn't know how to break the tension around them. Whatever this strange thing that'd developed between them, it wasn't friendship. He was still the enemy, even if she had seen him at his worst.

The events from yesterday still had her slightly shaken. She couldn't shake the image of the blond man's face, his expression a mix of contempt and disgust coupled with grief. And alcohol. It really had been a shame that the shake in his step hadn't effected his aim. His father. Dawn shivered involuntarily. She'd seen a lot living in Sunnydale and since, but this was the one thing she couldn't comprehend. Even evil, world-destroying monk midgets made more sense than a father wanting to harm his own son. No matter what you said about demons, they cared for their offspring... in their own way.

Although, at least she now knew what had happened.

The dungeon door opened with a loud creak. Draco glanced over and then went back to his brooding. Soft footsteps approached and eventually a figure walked into the lamplight. Dawn recognized the servant girl from yesterday. She bowed slightly and handed Draco a vial, which the boy took.

As he downed the dark liquid inside, the woman stepped up towards Dawn's cell. She stopped short of actually touching the bars as she peered at Dawn curiously. Dawn shifted a bit under the scrutiny.

From the back, Draco snorted.

"I don't understand why you find her so interesting, you're a Muggle yourself," he sneered.

Dawn blinked. The woman wasn't magical? Somehow, that didn't seem quite right...

"Why are you here?" the woman suddenly asked, ignoring Draco completely.

"Huh?" said Dawn.

"Why are you here?" she repeated. "Do you not have protectors?"

"Um, my sister and-and, hey, it's not like I _need_ protectors!"

"Your sister is strong?"

"The strongest."

"Yet she is not here."

Dawn had to stop herself from flinching. Yeah, so maybe she didn't have the most convincing argument to back her up at the moment, what with being held captive and all. This week's Tuesday seemed to have manage to draw itself out indefinitely.

"She wasn't there when the attack happened. She-she's probably looking for me now. She'll get me out."

The woman seemed to think about this, as if trying to decide whether the answer was acceptable. Behind her, Dawn saw Draco stand up, a confused, but curious, expression on his face. He made no move to stop them.

"Who is your sister?" the woman finally asked.

Dawn frowned. "Buffy." The servant had a blank expression on her face. "The Slayer."

Dawn froze. She hadn't meant to say that last part. Then she let out a breath. Oh, well, if this Dark Lord knew she was the Slayer's sister, then at least things might start happening. Anything had to be better than rotting anonymously inside a dungeon. Famous last words.

She looked to Draco, but the blond boy didn't look like he'd understood quite what she'd said. Or maybe he hadn't heard...

"A worthy protector for the Lady of Dagon-"

"You know, I have no idea what you mean with this Lady of Dagon crap, but my name is definitely Dawn Summers," Dawn snapped.

The Dark Lord knowing about her sister was one thing, but she really didn't need anyone deciding they could use her as a part of their world-domination scheme. Besides, that power was gone anyway. She didn't open anything anymore. She couldn't. Giles had said so.

"-yet an absent protector is of no use to you now." The woman hadn't paid any attention to Dawn's rant. "And so, I offer you my strength and my sword."

Dawn blinked.

"A-are you offering to protect me?" she asked cautiously, not quite believing she was hearing correctly.

"Yes."

From the back, Draco snorted.

"Oh, do tell, Muggle, how do you plan on protecting her when you're a prisoner yourself," he said with a sneer. "I mean, you can't even remember your own name, can you?"

The woman cocked her head and was for a few moments. Finally, she stepped away from Dawn's cell.

"Then perhaps it is time I remember," she said.

She left the dungeons, seemingly unaware of the two bewildered looks she was leaving behind.

* * *

"You know, I wonder what'll happen with the werewolves now that Greyback's dead," Harry said thoughtfully as he and his friends exited the library. "I mean, he was their leader, after all. Maybe they only joined Voldemort because of him? And now that he's dead, they'll have a new leader and..." He trailed off as he realized just how childish that idea actually sounded outside his own head.

"That would be nice," said Hermione. "But I think, it's wishful thinking. I don't think they would've joined Greyback if they didn't want to follow his ideals."

"Still, Remus said 'e was real powerful, so at least we won't have to worry 'bout running into 'im," Ron added.

Having spent the morning researching in the library (in other words, Hermione researching and the other two reading books and pretending they knew what they were reading about), the three of them were now on their way to the kitchens to grab some lunch. The front page of this morning's _Daily Prophet_, easily became their first topic of conversation, since it had never left their minds since reading it this morning.

"True," Harry agreed. Then he shivered. "I just hope the one who killed him is on our side."

"I'm not sure I want anyone capable of killing someone like that on our side," said Hermione, clutching the ancient-looking book she was holding even more tightly. That was when Ron finally noticed she was carrying it.

"'Mione, are you seriously going to drag that thing around everywhere you go?!" he asked half in amazement and half in exasperation.

The bushy-haired girl glared at him.

"It's the best lead we've got so far about that prophecy of Harry's," she said with a huff. "I don't want to let it out of my sight."

Ron shook his head.

"I can't believe you're taking this prophecy stuff so seriously," he said. "You're normally the first one to say that divinations is complete bollocks."

"And I still think most of it is," Hermione snapped. Then she huffed. "I've simply come to the conclusion that as a researcher I shouldn't discount any theory until I've otherwise proven it wrong - to open my mind and broaden my horizons so to speak. Besides, I don't see either of you too coming up with anything better."

"So basically, you've got no choice but to believe the proof from that dream with your grandmum," said Harry with a grin. Hermione blushed slightly.

"I still don't think we'll find anything in those blasted books," said Ron.

Harry sighed as Hermione glared at the redhead. "Ron, please don't start this again," he said quietly.

"Don't start what?!" Ron stopped in his tracks. Harry and Hermione took a few more steps before stopping and turning to face him. "We've been at this for weeks and we've only found one horcrux! Damn near killed us destroying it, too! I mean, seriously, what are the odds that You-Know-Who left us a nice little trail of convenient clues to follow! We need to leave and go look for them outside of Hogwarts!"

"And go where exactly, Ronald?" Hermione demanded. "We haven't got a clue where to start looking!"

"But we're not even looking! You're completely obsessed with trying to figure out this prophecy, even though you're only half-sure it'll actually help us!"

Hermione bit her lip. She was furious, but honestly didn't have an answer to Ron's accusation. She herself had been more than a bit spooked when she'd found the exact book and in exactly the same spot her grandmother had shown her in the dream. But after browsing through it and finding mention of a prophecy, which talked of a snake defeating a lion, even a hardcore unbeliever in divinations such as herself had no choice but conceding that maybe, just maybe, it wasn't completely useless all the time.

Unfortunately, the book - and the several others she'd discovered in the same area - didn't contain the actual prophecy, just mentions of it. However, they did seem to mention the rise of four ancients, which the prophecy Harry got from Phythia didn't. It made Hermione think that perhaps this was a different prophecy, or else they didn't have the full thing.

"Guys, this really isn't going to help," said Harry, trying to calm his friends down.

Personally, he was glad Hermione was finally taking this prophecy so seriously. But he couldn't help but agree with Ron that they probably weren't going to be able to find the rest of the horcruxes if they stayed at Hogwarts. And the more his friends demanded he pick a side, the less inclined he actually felt to do so. In the end, he was stuck somewhere between feeling restless and not wanting to go anywhere in case Hermione made a breakthrough the next day...

"Aaah, there you are, children!" a melodic voice exclaimed from the other end of the corridor, effectively stopping their arguing as all three Gryffindors groaned.

"My sixth sense told me I would find you if I went this way," Professor Trelwany continued merrily.

"That's because it's lunch-time and this is the way to the kitchens," Ron muttered, exchanging glances with Hermione, who smiled at his comment. Just like that, the tension that had been surrounding them was gone.

Harry grinned, before turning to the professor, feeling very grateful to her for the distraction.

"Was there something you wanted, professor?" he asked, interrupting her ramblings about how odd the stars were behaving and that the weather seemed to be shifting.

"Hm? Oh, yes, so there was." Trelwany looked pensive for a moment. "The cards are adamant. They're telling me about the arrival of a lady, a queen, or at least someone very important... and wise, I think. Yes, there is definitely power and wisdom surrounding this person - a woman for sure. Are you expecting anyone?"

The trio blinked at her and shook their heads.

"No? Hmm... I wonder who she is then... someone important, I should imagine." The professor seemed to mull this over in her mind for a few moments, before her face brightened "Oh, perhaps Headmistress McGonagall is arriving early this year! Yes, that would make sense. The headmistress is the most powerful person in the school and she is very smart. Yes, Minerva fits perfectly - with her owl, of course. Although, Minerva's owl isn't usually very helpful. It arrives too late."

By this point in time the divinations professor seemed lost in her own world. Three pairs of eyes met and made a silent consensus, before Harry, Ron and Hermione slowly turned and began to walk away.

However, they'd only taken three steps, when Hermione suddenly stopped and turned to the professor with a contemplative expression on her face. Then, with a sudden air of determination, she turned back and walked up to the professor. She didn't bother caring about the boy's surprised expressions when they realized she wasn't following them.

"Professor?" the girl said and Professor Trelwany turned to her with a dreamy smile and a slightly dazed expression on her face.

"Yes, dear?"

"Um, I was wondering if you'd ever heard about the Sandstone Prophecy? It's also called the Prophecy of the Four."

"Sandstone Prophecy? No, I don't think so..."

"Oh, okay. Well, thanks anyway."

With that, Hermione turned to walk away again.

"Although, Miss Granger," Trelwany suddenly began and Hermione turned back to her. "If this prophecy was written in sandstone, then I'm afraid you're not likely to ever find it."

"Why's that, professor?"

"Because it was probably destroyed a long time ago. You see, back in the days when writing was done on sandstone, it was believed that the power of divination was a gift from the gods and prophecies the words of the gods. And a god's words had the ability to bring things into being. To actually write down the words of a god... well, it just simply wasn't done at the time. Therefore, if someone had written this prophecy of yours into sandstone, then it would've likely been destroyed by someone else not too long afterwards. Especially if it foretold destruction or something else unfavourable."

"Oh," said Hermione, feeling decidedly unsettled by the usually airy Trelwany delivering a rather informative lecture. "That's a shame then. Thank you, professor."

Hermione turned to follow the boys again - who weren't actually going anywhere at the moment, as they were too absorbed with their gaping at the professor - when Trelwany's voice stopped her once more.

"Although," the divinations professor said slowly, as if she were thinking very carefully about what she was saying, "there are rumours of people who used to collect prophecies and wrote them down before they were destroyed. 'The Guardians' they've been called, I think. Or something like that. If their collection still exists, your prophecy might be there... if they exist..."

Hermione's eyes had lit up at this new information. Something new to research, a new potential piece to examine... only her growling stomach stopped her from rushing back to the library that very instant.

That, plus Ron grabbing her by the arm and dragging her away towards the kitchens.

* * *

The city of London is a busy, bustling city; full of people, cars, birds and electrical contraptions of every shape and size. Even on such a calm, clear day, the noise didn't stop. It continued on as it did every day, just as every Londoner knew it.

None of the busy noise reached the yard where Buffy sat, leaning against an oak tree that felt as old as the large, stone building behind her. A memory of the bright days of the Renaissance, it now housed the Neo Watcher's Council.

Every once in a while, the leaves above Buffy's head rustled as an almost undetectable breeze passed by. If not for her exceptional hearing, she probably wouldn't have been able to hear the leaves at all. The blonde slayer scanned the heavens, concentrating on the lighter spots, where the sun was trying to break through the barrier of gray clouds.

She heard soft footfalls in the grass coming up from behind her and her body tensed reflexively. She relaxed again when her senses felt a familiar aura of magic. The footsteps stopped beside the tree she was leaning against.

"How're you feeling?" Buffy asked without looking up.

"Better, but still tired," Willow answered. She sat down, cross-legged, on the grass beside her friend. "Travelling across a continent is definitely easier by plane."

Buffy chuckled as she observed her friend from the corner of her eye, making sure the redhead wasn't just trying to brush off her question. Satisfied, she nodded.

"So, what do you think of London's hellmouthiness?"

Willow shook her head.

"Not a hellmouth," she said. "It feels dark, but not demony, not like Sunnydale or Cleveland."

"But there's definitely some sort of mojo, right?"

Willow frowned. "I don't know; I- it's strange. . ." She paused, considering her words. "It doesn't feel like a spell, at least not directly. More like an after-effect. Like someone cast a spell to do something and this creepy feeling is what's left over. Except that it doesn't feel like any magic I know, which makes it all confusing, 'cause it definitely isn't natural and there's something sort of magical about it, but if it isn't demony and it isn't a spell-"

"Um, Wills?"

"Sorry," Willow said sheepishly. "I've kinda spent the last month alone, meditating in an old temple."

"No problem. Though, you might be on to something, so make sure you tell Giles about your sort of theory. From what I could figure all the Watcher-types have to go on so far is a big, unidentified something."

"Okay."

Buffy sighed.

"So, has Giles told you yet?"

"You mean about the whole Wizarding World and Dark Lord thing?"

"That's it."

"Yup."

"And. . .?" Buffy looked at her friend, trying to gauge her expression. Willow looked thoughtful for a moment.

"And it sounds so. . . bizarre. Like, how did we not know any of this? I mean, we lived in Sunnydale, the centre of all things weird and wiggy. We used to wonder how people could simply not see everything that went on around them and now I find out we're really not much different."

"I know, talk about getting some perspective."

They sat in silence for a while.

"So any ideas on how we're going to get Dawn back?" Willow asked.

"You do your thing and tell us where she is. Then I'll do my thing, kick Voldy-what's-his-face's ass and get her back."

Willow grinned.

"Now that sounds like a good ol' fashion Buffy plan."

"Just like old times," Buffy grinned back.

"Yeah."

"Even down to the 'rescue Dawn' part."

Willow giggled. "Oh come on, she was never that bad."

"Oh yes she was. Seriously, I sometimes think that girl needs an alarm or something that'd make loud noises whenever someone or something tries to steal her."

"I could get her a cow bell for Christmas." Buffy perked up at that thought.

"A magical cow bell? Can it be pink?"

"Sure. With 'Do Not Steal' written on it in big, bold letters."

"Perfect."

Suddenly her smile disappeared and Buffy brought her knees up and hugged them to her chest as she rested her head on them. She sighed. Willow scooted closer to her friend and put her arms around her.

"Don't worry, Buff. We'll get her back."

Buffy returned Willow's hug with a half-hug of her own. She smiled sadly.

"Thanks Wills."

Willow pulled away with a smile.

"Then you can go back to your quiet retirement with that Immortal boyfriend of yours."

Buffy sighed.

"Actually, I think I'm officially done with retirement." Willow's eyes widened in surprise. "It was fun, don't get me wrong, but it made me realize something." Buffy turned and looked her friend straight in the eye. "I'm a champion, the Chosen One."

She paused, a thoughtful look on her face.

"Willow, after we graduated, you could've done anything, gone anywhere, but you decided to stay in Sunnydale and help me, to fight the good fight. I was so happy you were staying, but I was also jealous. You made the choice I didn't have."

"Now you do have the choice," Willow whispered, thinking she understood where her friend was going. "With so many slayers, you can do anything."

"I know. Back then, when Angel came to Sunnydale to give me the Amulet, I told him I was cookie dough. That I needed time to bake and become the person I'm supposed to become."

She took a deep breath.

"Last month, I was walking home from buying these really cute lime green sandals when I heard a scream. I didn't even think: I just ran into some dirty alley. There were these two little kids being attacked by some sort of ugly, green tentaclly thing. I killed it and then afterwards, one of the kids asked me who I was. And for some reason, the first answer that came to my mind was "I'm the Slayer". I guess it kinda made me realize that, in a way, I've always known who I am. I'm Buffy Summers, the Vampire Slayer."

She said the last line with quite a bit of pride in her voice. Willow stared at her for a moment, looking thoughtful.

"So, does this mean the cookie's done baking?" she finally asked.

"I don't know," Buffy answered, dejectedly.

"Maybe the cookie's not supposed to be done baking," a new voice said. The girls turned around to smile widely at Xander. "Maybe the cookie bakes slowly, over your entire lifetime. You're talking about a person here and people change. I mean, remember what Wesley was like when we first met him? Or, gods forbid, even Spike? Once a cookie comes out of the oven then it's finished, it doesn't change. So maybe Buffy the cookie isn't supposed to ever be done."

There were several moments of silence. And astonished blinking.

"Wow, Xander, that was deep," Buffy finally said, a look of awe on her face.

"Yeah, who knew a cookie could be so philosophical," Willow giggled.

Xander shrugged.

"Hey, I'm on a roll," he said. "After all, it's all thanks to me and my instincts for wigginess that we're even figured out something's up."

"Yeah, but it was Spike who brought news of Voldimortus," Buffy pointed out.

"Voldemort," Willow corrected her.

"Yeah, Bleach-boy did kinda upstage me on that one, but that's only 'cause he got lucky."

"And you didn't?"

"Hey, give me some credit! My instincts for badness are perfectly legit."

"Only too bad they don't extend to your dates," Willow teased and Buffy giggled.

"All right, fine, see if I leave you any chocolate doughnuts next time." Xander huffed. However, it didn't take long before he was smiling along with the girls.

"Anyway," he continued. "Lori's got all the supplies you wanted, so she sent the all-trustworthy Xander to get you."

"Well then, lead the way o' all-trustworthy Xander," said Buffy as she hopped to her feet. Willow took Xander's offered hand and stood up with his help.

They were walking up the stone steps when Buffy suddenly paused.

"You know, once the cookie's baked you could always dip it in chocolate," she said thoughtfully.

"Oooh, or drizzle it with caramel," Willow added with excitement.

"Mmm, I like caramel."

"Ladies, do you have ruin my wonderful philosophical speech?"

"No," Buffy admitted. "But it's fun."

Xander walked into the building mumbling something about chocolate doughnuts and two girls that weren't going to get any.

* * *

Willow sat cross-legged on the hardwood floor, a map of England spread out before her. Her hands rested loosely on her knees and her eyes were closed in concentration. Her expression was one of peaceful calm, which was at complete odds with the way her long, red hair whipped about her head as if it were being assaulted by a localized hurricane.

The map she was concentrating on and the two lit candles on either side of it were the only things in the room not effected by the magical wind. Buffy, Faith, Xander, Giles and Lori, who stood watching from the side, all felt the wind ruffle their hair and clothes, although not nearly as violently as Willow's.

Suddenly, the wind picked up in its intensity and even the candle flames began to flicker and sway to the side. Buffy put a hand up to brush her hair away from her face. Faith merely turned a bit so that it blew away from her face.

Slowly, the wind began to die down again. Within moments, all was still again.

Willow slumped slightly, the calm concentration slipping from her face in favour of fatigue. A few beads of sweat appeared on her brow. She took a deep breath and opened her eyes. The others took a few steps towards her, but said nothing.

Willow looked up into their hopeful eyes.

"Sorry, Buffy," she said quietly. "I couldn't find her."

The disappointment was evident in the blonde slayer's eyes, but she smiled at her friend anyway.

"That's okay, Will," she said. "You tried your best. Maybe you're still tired."

"Or maybe it's this weird non-hellmouthy whatever-ness that's everywhere," Xander suggested.

Giles looked thoughtful at that.

"You know, that is a possibility," he said. "Willow, you just arrived here, so it might take you and your magic a little while to acclimatize, so to speak, to the extra magical interference."

"Yeah, I totally felt it when I first got here, but now it's kinda like background noise you can ignore," agreed Faith.

"But, what if I can't acclimatize?" Willow asked, looking worried. "W-what if my magic is unacclimatizable?"

"You're from Sunnydale," said Lori, "and I have definitely noticed that those of you who've spent time on the hellmouth are taking this interference or whatever a lot better than the rest of us."

"Hey, who would've thunk that good things would come from living on top of the cradle of all things evil and creepy," Xander joked.

"Yo, what if it's those wiz-guys doing something?" Faith suddenly asked.

"You mean, like using magic to hide Dawn against magic?" Buffy asked with a frown.

"Yeah, something like that."

"Hmm... I know there are wards capable of neutralizing magic," said Lori, frowning absently.

"And I believe there also exist some that can mask it," added Giles.

"Um, not to bear bad news or anything," said Faith, "but these guys sound pretty international... Are we sure she's still in this country?"

Everyone froze. No one had wanted to even consider such a possibility, although when they'd seen the locator spell fail, they'd all had the thought. But Willow shook her head.

"No, she's here," the redhead stated. "When I said I couldn't find her, I meant I couldn't point to an exact place on the map. But I definitely felt an, um, hereness, like she's on the map somewhere, except that somewhere could be anywhere on the map and, um, sorry. Not really helping here, I know, but at least I can state with absolute certainty that she's not on some other map."

Willow smiled sheepishly.

"Could we get a smaller map?" asked Xander. The others turned to him, looking at him like he was growing mental deficiency out of his ears. Xander was quick to correct himself. "I mean, not as in a physically smaller map, but like a smaller part of the country map."

"Oh. Okay, I get it," said Buffy. "Like we give Willow a map of just London and see if she feels any Dawn hereness from it."

"Yeah, I could do that," said Willow with a happy grin.

"No, or at least not yet," Giles interrupted their happy moment. "That would take a lot of energy from Willow she doesn't quite seem to have. For now, I say we leave that as a last resort."

"Aren't we kinda at 'last resort' stage here?" Buffy asked.

"Not quite, or least I hope not..." For a moments Giles looked a bit uncertain. "If nothing else, Willow needs to rest right now-"

"-and acclimatize-" added Xander.

"-and I think it would be a good idea if Lori and I try and look up masking wards to see if we can't find a way for Willow to get around them or at least detect them."

"Maybe there's a stronger locating spell I could try too," suggested Willow.

"Yes, that too."

Buffy nodded.

"There's also Spike and co. still out there and since they're not back yet, I'm kinda hoping they might've found something."

"I still can't believe you just let them leave," Xander grumbled. Buffy ignored him.

"So, let's give this 'till tomorrow and then if Willow's spells fail, we go with Xander's plan."

"Sounds good to me," Faith agreed.

Buffy reached a hand out and helped Willow to her feet. Willowed grinned.

"You know, this is kind of exciting," she told Buffy. "I haven't been research-girl Willow in a while."

"Well then, welcome back research-girl Willow!" Buffy grinned back.

"Why thank you, slayer-gal Buffy."

* * *

"Okay, I am totally sick and tired of getting odd looks and hearing whispered, scandalized conversations because I'm wearing _normal_ clothes instead of what the rest of these clichéd-looking weirdos are wearing."

Spike looked up from the dark corner of the abandoned basement he was hiding in as Connor burst in. There was a half-smoked cigarette hanging from his lips. He was lounging on a crate of something that smelt of dried herbs with one leg dangling off the edge and the other bent at the knee so that he could rest his arm on it.

"I mean, it's not like I'm trying to make some sort of fashion statement here," Connor continued, pacing back and forth across the small basement room as he ranted. "Everything I'm wearing is completely ordinary. Well, except maybe for the stake arm-holsters, but they can't see that. And I suppose the hunting knives in my pant legs aren't too run-of-the-mill unless you work around my dad - or the axe hidden on my back for that matter - but again with the whole 'they can't see that'!"

He paused and frowned.

"Unless of course they were using some sort of x-ray vision spell to see through clothes... which is actually kinda possible and more than a little creepy."

Finally, he turned his attention to Spike, who was watching him with a highly amused expression on his face.

"I take it you're not a fan of our friendly neighbourhood wizards?" he asked innocently - or at least as innocently as anyone could while sporting an amused smirk.

Connor glared at him.

"There was this old guy, who had to be about a hundred years old and not looking any fresher," he stated dryly, his eyes boring into the vampire's in an attempt to convey the horrors he had witnessed. "He was wearing lilac." Spike winced. "With pink and green polka dots."

Spike blinked for a few moments before taking a drag of his cigarette.

"Buffy would have a heart attack," he said simply.

"So would Cordelia."

"Find out anything about our Wicked Wizard of Oz?"

"He's big and bad and everyone's terrified of him." Connor sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "It was actually really depressing. Like, civilian city in a World War Two movie depressing. Their fear was making me sick, it was so strong. And half the stores are boarded up or just abandoned. And the people were all shifty-eyed and huddled together and whispering. Okay, so maybe not all of them, but a lot of them. There were some people whispering about other things."

Here Connor looked up at Spike and grinned deviously.

"These wizards are actually kinda stupid for magic-users," he said. "Or maybe they're not used to dealing with demons and things with really good hearing."

Spike raised an eyebrow.

"So you've got something then?"

Connor nodded, his grin fading slightly.

"Not sure how helpful it'll be, but yeah."

Just then both men turned their gazes to the door as they felt a presence behind it. The door opened a bit and a thin figure slipped through. Two steps into the room, willowly Fred morphed as she walked and Illyria greeted her companions with a slight nod.

"So, what does the great demon goddess 'ave to say about our lovely wizarding world?" Spike asked.

"It is unimpressive," came the reply.

Connor rolled his eyes.

"Like you couldn't predict the answer to that question," he said, before turning Illyria. "Did you learn anything about finding this dark mega-wizard?"

"They do not know."

"Damn," said Connor. "That's pretty much what I've got. Although, I gotta say everyone seems really hopeful 'bout that Harry Potter kid you guys mentioned before."

"Guess they figure that if he got lucky once, he might get lucky again," said Spike.

Connor shrugged.

"Probably. Either way, Voldemort's apparently got it out for the kid. Made it his mission to kill him before anyone else."

"I too heard much about this Boy-Who-Lived," said Illyria. "However, it seems he no warrior; he hides from the dark wizard."

"But, if Voldemort's after him, then do you suppose the kid knows where he is?" asked Spike.

"I do not know."

"We could try and find out, though," said Connor. "I mean, it's as good a lead as any."

Illyria nodded in agreement.

"Right," said Spike. "Well, I'm stuck 'ere for another hour or so."

"So, we'll go now and you'll catch up once the sun goes down."

Spike grunted an agreement and then watched as his two companions left. Sometimes, he really hated being a vampire. Only sometimes, though.

* * *

It was a warm night, with just enough of a breeze to make the grass dance in the wind. Or perhaps it was a multitude of tiny invisible fairies making the glades rustle as they played within it. The sky was clear, not a cloud in sight to obscure the stars in their view of the mortal realm. Or the mortal realm in its view of the stars. There was an electricity in the air, however, like the calm before a coming storm.

It was a perfect night to simply lay in the grass and listen to crickets and the movements of the trees.

Far above, in the top of the tallest watch tower of Malfoy Manor, Angela couldn't hear the crickets, or the trees. All she could hear was the occasional hoot from the owlery. But she wasn't listening to the owls as she looked down upon the extensive Malfoy lands. All she could think of was that girl in the dungeon.

Why had she called her that? And what made her think she could suddenly remember who she was after so many years of being unable? Yet, at that very moment, she had simply known she could. She remembered that feeling of certainty. Lady of Dagon. . . who was the Lady of Dagon? The flash of understanding and knowledge she'd had was gone.

Angela sighed. A stronger gust of breeze blew her hair into her eyes. She brushed it away with her hand and looked up into the night sky.

There was something calming about gazing at the stars. She'd always enjoyed it, feeling a sort of kinship with the ancient beacons of light. They'd seen humans take their first steps out of the primordial soup, watched civilizations and empires rise and then fall, shone down upon the dreams and nightmares of so many insignificant creatures. She wondered if they ever felt lonely, if they ever felt their immortality a burden.

Her eyes were wide with wonder as she stood there silently, lost in the vastness of the heavens, in the feeling of awe before something so infinite. It was terrifying to think how small her own existence was.

She closed her eyes as a second breeze caressed her body. Suddenly her body stiffened and the lines on her face became harsher for an instant, before relaxing once again.

Angela opened her eyes. It was a different pair of eyes that now opened, harder, harsher. She looked up at the stars once again.

And remembered.

* * *

Hehe... I suddenly realized I haven't really indulged in my love of cliffhangers in this story so far. And then I imediately went to rectify that. =D Hope you all enjoyed this chapter. Please review and let me know what you thought of it!

Author's Notes:

**Minerva's owl **- Minerva being the Roman goddess of wisdom and the owl considered the wisest of creatures. Trelwany here is alluding to a quote by the philosopher Hegel: "The owl of Minerva flies only at dusk." Basically, it means that wisdom comes only towards the end - in hindsight. I'm not quite sure why I've decided to make Trelwany so intellectual in this story, but I just loved how the quote fitted into her ramblings.


	15. Chapter 14

No, no, your eyes are not playing tricks on you. This is, indeed, a brand spanking new chapter, out in record time. You have my lovely, two-week vacation to thank for that. As well as my wonderful betas, **Gwen** and **Biblios**, whom I also thank profusely.

Disclaimer: All I own is the prophecy and a few random characters. Everything else is the creative genius of others.

* * *

-1**Prophecy of the Four**

**Chapter 14 - **The First Movement

The night was calm and cloudless. Stars shone against the backdrop of the dark sky, somehow seeming brighter than they had been in quite some time. Or perhaps it was simply that here, on the outskirts of the city, they weren't as hindered by the smog. Either way, it was a beautiful night - some poet somewhere was surely waxing lyrically all about it.

The gas station they'd stopped at more or less looked just like every other small gas station he'd ever been at - except that it was called a 'petrol station' in this country. There were gas/petrol/whatever pumps, overpriced snacks - which didn't look entirely edible to begin with and the oddest assortment of magazines known to man. Connor quickly decided that British people must get especially bored during road trips, because that was the only reason he could think of that would make anyone buy a magazine about tractors or fly fishing or... ooh, they had magazines about knives?! Then again, American gas stations had magazine stands too, so he supposed this 'petrol station' was just like any normal North American gas station.

Well, the odd-looking, balding man with buck teeth, a badly-cut shaggy beard and a constant, almost predatory frown on his face, who was working the till didn't look entirely normal. If Connor didn't know without a doubt the man was human, he might've been creeped out. Or maybe it was how creepy the man managed to look while being completely human was the scary part...

Either way, Connor was more than happy to pay for gas and his pathetic excuse for a sandwich and leave. Except that the airhead and her husband in front of him were taking forever to find their damn credit card.

Connor suppressed a growl.

He looked out the window and winced as he saw Spike manhandle his cellphone. Spike and delicate technology just didn't mix.

Spike put the cellphone to his ear as he plunked himself onto the front hood of the black car they'd 'picked up' on a random London side street. It was an older model and slightly bent out of shape, which had meant Spike could break into it without the use of a sledgehammer. The windows were now spray-painted black, just enough spaces between streaks to allow a driver to see the road.

Spike hung up the phone.

"Bugger," he said. "How many Chinese take-aways does this bloody city 'ave?!"

He ran a hand through his hair and sighed. Then he began to dial another number. Suddenly, Illyria was beside him. She grabbed the phone from him and shifted into Fred.

"Oi! I almost had it that time!"

"Why can't you just admit you don't remember the number?" Fred asked as she fiddled with the phone. A few seconds later, she handed it back. "There, it's dialling."

Spike glowered at her as he took the phone and put it to his ear. It was ringing. Out of the corner of his eyes he saw Fred shift back to Illyria - idly, he wondered if Illyria used some sort of magic so that normal people didn't notice her shifting. Just then, the phone clicked and Buffy's voice came on.

"Hey there, you've reached the Watcher's Council. We're probably out saving the world or something equally important. So, leave us your name and number and we'll call you back as soon as we can. Thanks and have a great day!"

Spike nearly growled when he realized it was an answering machine. He waited for the 'beep'.

"Uh, hey, it's Spike," he began. "We, uh, found that Diagon Alley place, but didn't 'ave much luck there. That Voldemort character's got all the local magicians spooked. But we overheard a few of 'em talking about that Potter kid and how he's caught his fancy in a big way. The kid's hiding out in a castle or school or whatever called Hogwarts. Not quite sure where it is, except that it's in Scotland. So, we've, um, borrowed ourselves a car and are gonna 'ead out that way." He paused, searching for something else to say. "Right, well... uh, we'll call again if we find anything. Bye."

Spike pressed the red button on the phone. He looked up and saw Connor heading his way, carrying a plastic bag.

"Did you get through?" the boy asked when he was close enough.

"Got the bloody answering machine."

"Guess that's better than nothing, I suppose. At least they'll get the message."

"Yeah." Spike tossed the phone back to Connor and hopped off the car. "You got everything you need?"

Connor nodded.

"Then we should head off." He looked to Illyria, who was standing a few steps away and staring off into the distance. "Oi, Blue, we're going?"

He went to the driver's side and opened the door. He was about to get in, when he noticed Illyria hadn't moved.

"Um, Blue?" asked, puzzled.

"Illyria?" asked Connor, looking slightly worried. "Is everything okay?"

Illyria still didn't move.

"Something has awoken," she finally said.

"Something like what?" asked Connor.

"Something not too good by the looks of things," Spike commented.

"Something familiar," said Illyria.

"Yup, definitely not good. Is that where we're heading, by any chance?"

There was some rustling beside him. He glanced to see Connor studying an open map.

"Nope, she's looking west," he said. "And we're heading north." Connor looked up. "Do you want to go check this out?"

Spike contemplated this.

"Could be interesting, but if Blue's finding it familiar then it likely ain't some wizard. Dawn's prophecy mentioned Ancients, but we're looking for Dawn, not solving 'er prophecy."

"Okay. Let's go find the yellow brick road then."

* * *

There was a knock on the study door and Voldemort looked up from his reading with a slight smile. He recognized the knock; it was Bellatrix. Somehow, she always managed to sound adoring and devoted, even through a solid door.

"Enter," he called and sure enough, Bellatrix walked into the room.

She bowed down low, averting her eyes. Respectful, Bellatrix was always respectful.

"You wished to see me, my lord?" she asked.

"Yes, so I did." He gestured to one of the chairs opposite him. "Have a seat."

"Thank you, my lord." At this point, Voldemort knew the woman would've been positively beaming had she not been brought up a Black.

"Tomorrow, you will lead another raid," he began. "The target will be Diagon Alley."

Bellatrix's face lit up in excitement. "Thank you, my lord! It's truly an honour to be chosen for such a task even after my nephew's disgrace."

"Indeed. It is that disgrace, which I wish to speak to you about."

"My lord?"

"The boy has been punished and now understands well the consequences of going against my wishes." He paused for effect. "I've decided to give him one, last chance. You will take him with you on the raid. Prepare him however you must, use him however you wish. If he is still hesitant - kill him."

"Yes, my lord. And thank you for allowing me the chance to make up for my family's shortfalls."

"You are most welcome, Bellatrix. Their shortfalls are no fault of your own. Young Draco is a bright child and has much potential. I desire the opportunity to mould him into one of my most loyal followers. He simply needs a little... persuading. However, my patience has its limits and I will not tolerate anything but complete devotion."

"Of course, my Lord. I shall personally prepare him for tomorrow. I'm sure there are a few extra Muggle prisoners we can use for practice."

The Dark Lord nodded, a malicious grin spreading across his face.

Suddenly, the air around them changed. The smile disappeared from his face as he leapt to his feet. This was powerful magic he was feeling - dark, but unlike anything he'd ever felt before.

"My lord, what is that?" Bellatrix asked in a half-whisper. He glanced at her. She was also standing, eyes wide and slightly frightened.

"Quiet," he snapped.

Voldemort closed his eyes and concentrated on the feeling. Usually, tracing magic in a place like the Malfoy Manor, which was infused with all sorts of old spells, charms and magical artefacts, was extremely difficult even for someone as powerful as him. However, this magic was so different, so intense, that the Dark Lord had no trouble at all tracing it.

"It's coming from the dungeons," he declared as his eyes snapped open.

No sooner had he finished speaking, he was rushing out the door, Bellatrix at his heels.

* * *

Willow sprinted into the kitchen and poured herself a cup of coffee - spilling some of it onto the counter in her haste. Xander, who'd shuffled in behind her, stared at the redhead, blinking the sleep out of his eyes as she frantically searched for a rag to use on the spill, before she seemed to suddenly remember she was a witch and could make it go away with a wave of her hand.

"Uh, Wills?" Xander called. Willow yelped in surprise and turned around to face him. He chuckled. "I'm glad to see you all rested up and all, but you do realize all that energy has to last you for the rest of the day, right?"

Willow smiled.

"Oh, good morning, Xander," she said. "Sorry, I just kinda got up and then it was like, 'boom', there was this revelation exploding in my mind, except not really that loud, so I guess it was more of a 'shazam' kind of thing... But anyway, I suddenly realized that maybe if I try the locating spell a bit differently, I might have better luck. I mean, we may not be able to find Dawn exactly, but Voldemort sounds like he's pretty powerful. So, I figure that maybe if I do a spell to locate powerful magic in general, then we might be able to get an idea of where to start searching. Like, if powerful magic is being used to hide Dawn, then we might be able to find that powerful magic that's being used-"

"Okay, woah, Willow, breath!" Xander said, holding his hands out.

"Sorry," Willow said sheepishly. "Got a bit too babbly there, didn't I?"

"Just a bit." Xander smiled at his friend. "So basically, you want to find the magic that's being used to hide Dawn first."

"Yeah. Giles and I found a more powerful locating spell, so that might help too."

"Cool. You want me to go wake the Buffster and tell her the news?"

"I'm already awake," came a voice from the doorway, followed by a yawn. Buffy walked into the kitchen wearing light blue pyjamas with smiley-face stars all over them. "Unless I'm dreaming being awake, which would kinda suck. I'd hate to waste good dream-time thinking I'm awake."

"At least we'd all be dreaming together," Xander pointed out.

"You know, there's a spell to link the dreams of several people together," said Willow. "Though, it's apparently a bit unpredictable. Like, you don't really get to decide what dream you're going to be stuck in."

"Neat," said Buffy. "So what was it you were wanting to wake me up for?"

"Willow's got a plan," said Xander smugly.

"Oooh, yay. I like Willow plans." Buffy paused. "Well, most of them. Getting me and Spike engaged was not one of the greatest moments of plandom."

"You and Spike getting engaged was not at all planned," Willow protested.

"What's this about you and Spike getting engaged?" asked Giles as he chose that moment to walk into the kitchen and the conversation along with several of the younger slayers.

"Willow's got a plan," Buffy explained.

Giles stopped half-way to the counter and slowly turned to the Scoobies with an odd expression on his face. He opened his mouth and then seemed to change his mind. Instead, he merely shook his head.

"I'm entirely sure I don't want to know," he said as he continued on his way towards his tea kettle.

"I'm not," said Gwen, before rushing to Buffy's side, an eager expression on her face. "You're engaged to Spike?"

"Ze vampire?" asked Renata.

"Good vampire," Vi corrected her. "He's on our side."

"An' he is hot," said one of the other slayers.

"Huh?" Buffy blinked at the direction into which the conversation had morphed. "Woah, woah, hang on a sec guys!" She waved her arms in the air to get their attention. "There is no engaging between me and Spike. Spike and I are totally non-engagey, as in two completely separate people with no other-halfedness whatsoever."

"Oh thank goodness," said Giles from his tea-making corner.

Many explanations later, Willow was once again sitting cross-legged on the hardwood floor, map spread out in front of her. However, this time she was sitting in a circle of candles connected with branches of holly and rowan. Buffy, Xander, Giles and Lori once again stood to one side, holding their breaths and mentally crossing their fingers.

Buffy and Xander exchanged encouraging smiles with Willow.

"Okee dokie, well here goes nothing," said the redhead before taking a deep breath and closing her eyes. Her face went slack as she breathed out.

For a few moments, the room was entirely still, as if all movement had been frozen in time. The only sound in the room was Willow's steady breathing, until finally she spoke.

"Findan deogollice mihtig lecgan!"

At first, nothing happened. Willow's eyes remained closed and her posture still. And then, little by little, the group of observers slowly felt her magic lap against them. Xander understood at once that this new spell was very powerful indeed if even he could feel it. Lori gasped.

"She's amazing," she whispered to no one in particular.

"Yup, that's our Willow - sweet and babbly and completely amazing," Buffy answered, trying to seem as if she wasn't also on the verge of being overwhelmed.

"She's always more amazing at full power," Xander agreed.

"I'm just really glad she's on our side," said Lori.

"Yeah, evil Willow beats the Emperor, Saruman and Lexx Luther combined," Xander agreed.

"And I'm sure that would suitably frighten me if I had any idea what you were talking about."

"Hey there, noisy people in the background, who aren't participating in any spells!" Willow suddenly called out with several shades of annoyance in her voice. "Could you zip it so I can concentrate?! This isn't exactly elementary stuff, you know!"

"Sorry, Wills."

"Sorry."

"My apologies, Willow."

They turned their attentions back to Willow.

"Aetywan mihtig lecgan!" Willow chanted, slightly louder than the first time.

This time, the candle flames around her shot upwards and wind blew around the magic circle, rustling the branches. A light fog began to form around perimeter of the circle, although it didn't spread far beyond.

Then the wind seemed to pass over the map. Gradually, spots of light began to form on it. Some became steadily brighter and grew in size, but others stayed small and dim. There were quite a few small, dim lights as well as a few brighter ones. London was covered in light.

Buffy grabbed Xander's hand and squeezed. Xander had to poke her to stop the slayer from actually crushing his bones, but his eyes never left Willow and the map.

Willow frowned slightly and then the candle flames shot up again. A new glow appeared on the map, except it wasn't like the others - it covered a larger area and was more of a wobbly circle than a spot.

Beads of sweat began to appear on Willow's brow and then another, similar circle, began to appear on another part of the map - close to London. Except this one was smaller and seemed to fade in and out of existence, as if it were actively fighting Willow.

Everyone watched, transfixed, as that one spot fought against the magical power trying to bring it forth. Only Giles managed to pull his attention away from the battle for long enough to copy its approximate location onto the duplicate map he help in front of him.

Just as he was looking back to the original map, the spell exploded.

Or, rather, a dark red light exploded from out of the map. Willow's eyes shot open in surprise just as the light hit her square in the chest. She screamed as she flew backwards and into a leather couch, which had been pushed up against the far wall. Wind swept across the entire room and then disappeared into the remains of the circle.

All was still for exactly three seconds. And then there was a frantic mass of movement as Xander and Buffy ran to their friend - who wasn't moving anymore - and Giles and Lori quickly began to put out the small fires, where lit candles had toppled over onto dry branches.

* * *

Meanwhile, in another part of England - a little to west, in fact - a dragon statuette's glowing red eyes had gone unnoticed. Its cracked left eye would continue to go unnoticed for quite a bit longer.

* * *

Dawn had never realized silence could be so loud. It was the blond's guard shift again - Draco's guard shift. From her almost non-existent vantage point, Dawn could just about see him leaning against the wall and staring at the ground in front of him. She didn't need to tap into any powers to know his aura was dark with depression.

She desperately wanted to say something. Anything. But she couldn't find the words. It vaguely occurred to her that as the prisoner, she really shouldn't be trying to cheer up her guard. . . She bit her lip. On the one hand, he was an evil minion, but even despite the painful curse he'd used on her when they'd first met, Dawn couldn't help but see the boy who'd just lost his mother.

"Great, now I'm getting Stockholm Syndrome," she muttered to herself.

Narcissa's hopeful, pleading face flashed before her eyes and Dawn sighed. She decided she may as well start working on the whole trust and befriending thing if she was going to keep the promise she'd made to her. After all, the woman had already paid the price for saving her son. Dawn smiled slightly when she realized that, in a way, her own mom was also asking her to save Draco.

Dawn took a deep breath.

"Three years ago, the doctors told my mom she had a brain tumour," she finally broke the silence. She noticed Draco tense and figured that meant he had at least heard her even if he was unwilling to acknowledge her. "I remember mom smiling and everyone saying how the operation should get rid of it. I was really scared though, 'cause I thought 'What if the operation doesn't work, what if she really dies?'. But the operation was a success and they took the tumour out. A couple of weeks later she was back home from the hospital and doing fine. I was happy."

Here Dawn paused and took another deep breath, willing herself to ignore the pain that the memory inevitably made her remember.

"Then one day, my sister came home from school to find mom laying dead on the couch. A-a blood clot got into her brain, killed her instantly."

She heard Draco's breath hitch slightly. There were several moments of silence.

"It-it's not the same," he finally said quietly, his voice sounding a bit hoarse.

"No, it's not." She paused again, debating with herself for a moment whether or not to continue. "A few months later, my sister died saving my life. I stood there and watched her die."

Draco finally lifted his head to look at her. His eyes were dull, but they contained a spark of interest.

"Where's your father?" he asked. Dawn blinked at the question.

"Umm, you know, I have no idea. Probably somewhere in L.A. bangin' his secretary or something. After my parents split I just kinda lost contact. He didn't even come to my sister's funeral."

"Sounds like a complete wanker."

"Hey, I don't see yours winning any 'Father of the Year' awards."

Draco had nothing to say to that other than to resume his staring at the ground. The dungeon was silent for a while and Dawn kicked herself for officially killing whatever half-conversation they'd had going.

"So, you're alone then?" Draco suddenly asked. He was still staring at the ground, but his mood didn't seem quite as dark as it had been before.

"Well, not really. My sister's friends took care of me. Spike and Xander became the strong older brothers and Willow and Tara were the kind older sisters. It was tough, but I got through it in the end."

She wisely decided not to mention how it all ended when Buffy rose from her grave several months later.

Suddenly, Dawn heard the heavy door into the dungeon open - at least she imagined it was a big heavy door, since that's what it sounded like. Draco's head shot up at the noise and he visibly tensed as he looked in the direction of the door. The door shut and moments later, he relaxed a bit, although he was still watching the newcomer.

Dawn tried to crane her head to see who had entered. She heard soft, confident footfalls.

Once the person reached Draco's side, Dawn recognized the female servant from yesterday. Draco straightened up and eyed her warily as she passed him, frowning slightly when she only barely acknowledged his existence with a slight nod.

The she was standing before Dawn's cell. Slowly, Dawn stood up. Their eyes met and Dawn nearly gasped. The girl's eyes were different than they'd been before. There was no longer any confusion in them: their gentleness was gone, replaced by something that could've been determination, but definitely spoke of strength. Dawn knew these eyes; Buffy had these eyes. They were the eyes of a warrior.

"I have remembered," the woman finally said, her voice echoing eerily in the otherwise silent dungeon. Dawn could feel herself beginning to sweat. "So, I come again, Lady of Dagon, to offer you my strength. Do you accept me as your knight?"

Dawn wanted to think it over. She knew she should find out more about this servant-turned-warrior before carelessly accepting her offer, but somehow, she found herself answering anyway.

"Alright," she said. "If you can get me out of here, then sure. I-I'll accept you as my knight."

A black wind swept through the dungeon, knocking Draco down against the wall and making Dawn shield her eyes. Then there was an almost musical noise, like the sound glass shattering. The wind went still.

Dawn lowered her arm and looked at the woman. She didn't look any different than before, except. . . Dawn's eyes widened as she felt a new kind of magic in the dungeon. A much more familiar kind of magic.

"Y-you shouldn't be able to do magic!" Draco suddenly exclaimed from his corner on the ground as he stared at the woman with wide eyes. Dawn rolled her eyes.

"Please tell me you're not gonna say it's 'cause she's a Muggle. 'Cause, hello, I think that theory's a total lost cause at this point."

Draco glared at her.

"No, my father said he put a binding spell on her, so that she couldn't use any magic even if she had powers."

"Oh." Dawn paused. "You can do that?"

"My powers are too strong to be sealed by such a weak spell," said an unfamiliar voice. It wasn't the loud, booming voice Dawn would've expected, but a quiet, emotionless voice that definitely didn't sound female, but neither did it sound male.

Dawn looked back to the woman and gasped. She hadn't really paid much attention to her before, but she was absolutely positive the glowing red eyes were new.

Just then flames tinged in black erupted around the woman, enveloping her completely before receding once again. Draco scrambled backwards and fumbled for his wand. Dawn took a few steps back - as far as her chains would allow.

"I am Azazella," the warrior said, drawing out the second 'a' with a slight lilt that hinted at some sort of accent. "I hereby pledge my sword to Dawn Summers, the Lady of Dagon."

Dawn gaped. She was so astounded, she would realize later she'd completely forgot to be afraid.

"Oh, um, uh, thanks. . . " she said.

The eyes that now stared back at her were no longer glowing, but they were still red, with deep black pupils that seemed like burning coals in the midst of a fiery lava. Her skin was pitch black and covered in what appeared to be tiny scales. There also seemed to be a raised area on her forehead where Dawn could almost make out a symbol of some sort she didn't recognize. Her hair was straight, black, and long, falling down to her waist in a river of smooth, glistening locks.

The simple, blue dress she'd been wearing was gone. In its place, Azazella wore dark red and black body armour that looked like a thick second skin. It began at the neck and was sleeveless with black spikes sticking outwards at the shoulders. There didn't seem to be a conscious design on the armour, rather the colours seemed to meld together randomly. Her shoes looked a bit like combat boots, except they were pointy and had no laces.

The menacing appearance was completed by a pair of thin, spear-like weapons crossing Azazella's back - a curved blade on each end.

It took Dawn a few moments to get over her shock. She glanced over to Draco. He was huddling in the corner, eyes wide, his wand drawn and pointing at Azazella in trembling hands. In exactly that moment, Dawn had an epiphany. She remembered the dream she'd had before waking up in this dungeon, remembered her mother's words.

Dawn closed her eyes and relaxed. When opened them again, she gave Draco what she hoped was a reassuring smile and then turned to Azazella, who was still as a statue and staring back at her. Dawn took a few steps forward and crossed her arms in front of her as best as her chains allowed.

"So, I guess you're a demon then, huh?" she asked. She heard Draco whimper.

Azazella was quiet for a while. "Yes, I believe that is what you call us now," she eventually answered. Dawn frowned.

"Huh? What do you mean? What do you call yourselves?"

"Nothing. We just were. We were either weak or strong, warrior or mage, servant or king. Then the humans crawled out of the muck and created the word 'good' and the word 'evil'. _They_ called us 'demon'."

Dawn's eyes threatened to bulge out of her sockets. Once again, she gaped at the warrior as she tried to find her voice.

"You're an Old One," she whispered.

"I am."

Draco whimpered again.

"A-are you going to kill us?" he asked in a voice that was a tad more high-pitched than usual. Azazella turned her head to look at him askance.

"You are beneath my notice to kill. Unless the Lady of Dagon tells me otherwise."

It took Dawn a few moments to figure out what she meant by that. Her eyes widened.

"Okay, woah there!" she said, her hands up in front of her in a placating gesture. "There will be no killing of anyone. Ever. Except in self-defence. Oh, and stop calling me the Lady of Dagon. I barely know anything about this Dagon thing. My name's Dawn. Just Dawn. If you want to do anything, you can think of a way to get us out of here!"

The Old One, whose attention was now fully on Dawn again, nodded briefly. "Very well, Lady Dawn. If that is what you wish."

Dawn groaned. She could just see the teasing she'd get when the others heard the ancient demon call her 'Lady Dawn'. But at least it was still better than the alternative. Before she was given the opportunity to think any more about why being called the 'Lady of Dagon' made her feel uneasy, Azazella stepped up to her cell and placed her hands on the bars.

Within seconds, the iron bars began to smoulder, thin smoke rising up in steady trickles. Suddenly, the bars were burning in black flames. And then, the flames were gone and all that was left of the iron bars were black ashes on the ground.

Dawn stared.

She gulped. The display of power was impressive. But, to Dawn, the power she'd felt from the warrior was even more impressive; she'd never felt power like this before. It was dark and demonic, yet steady and controlled. Compared to it, Willow's darkness seemed like an unruly child who'd happened upon a box of matches and a dozen cans of kerosene. This wasn't as wild, there was no grief or anger fuelling it - the power wasn't controlling anything, it was tamed and on a leash.

Dawn continued staring at the demon as she approached her. Azazella looked down at Dawn's chains and, somehow, Dawn understood through her daze and lifted her hands up. She touched them briefly and Dawn felt the magic in them melt away. They fell to the ground with a loud clang.

"Uh, thanks," said Dawn. Azazella nodded curtly and stepped away from her. "Umm, getting out of this castle or whatever is going to be really easy for you isn't it?"

Another nod.

Suddenly, there was a bang from the direction of the door, followed by some cursing and then another bang. It was at that moment that Dawn remembered Draco. She walked out of her cell and looked down the hall. Sure enough, Draco had his wand drawn and pointed at the lock.

"I sealed the door when I arrived so we wouldn't be interrupted," Azazella said from behind her, answering Dawn's unasked question.

Dawn rolled her eyes and ran to the door. Draco was rattling the door handle when she arrived with no visible results. She stopped just behind him and sighed.

"Don't bother," she said and Draco jumped. "She's done something to the door. I highly doubt it will open for anything short of heavy artillery."

Draco whirled around to face her. His eyes were wide, his breaths were fast and shallow and he was covered in sweat. Dawn winced, feeling a twinge of sympathy for the boy. Not that she was about to let him know that.

"Geez, not too long ago you were going on about your big bad, evil Dark Lord and his super master plan for global domination," she said as she crossed her arms. "Who knew you'd freak out over just one demon?"

Draco blinked at her, then frowned, his breathing calming down a bit.

"What do you mean 'just one demon'?" he demanded. "You realize this means we're trapped down here with it? It could decide to kill us at any moment and no one would even know!" Then he paused for a moment, before glaring at her. "And why exactly is it that you're so calm about all this? You're just a Muggle, how-"

"I'm sorry, who threw who half-way across the dungeons the other day?!" Dawn shrugged. "I never lied, I'm not a wizard and I'd never heard of your Wizarding World or your Dark Lord before getting kidnapped. But I never said I was entirely normal either."

"Lady Dawn," came Azazella's voice. Dawn turned her head to find that the warrior had followed her and was standing only a few feet away. "I believe someone has felt my presence here. I can hear people on their way down. I could defeat them easily, however you have said you wish to avoid bloodshed."

"Yeah, I mean not that killing off the bad guys would really be such a horrible loss, but I don't think we should face them just yet. I'm not really sure this is our fight."

With that, Dawn turned to Draco.

"Wanna come with?" she asked casually with a smile.

"Excuse me?" he asked, looking completely confused. Dawn giggled at his confusion.

"Well, you don't really look like this evil minion gig is making you lots o' happy and, no offence, but this place looks kinda depressing, so how about a change of scenery?"

Draco's eyes briefly flickered with something Dawn thought might've been hope, but it was quickly pushed away and replaced with anger.

"You think that _you_ could 'help' me?! What makes you think I want or need your help? You're a bloody prisoner for Merlin's sake! And even if you're not entirely a Muggle, you're not some powerful witch either. The only man who ever stood a chance against the Dark Lord was Dumbledore and he's dead. He didn't even die at the hands of the Dark Lord either. So, unless you're waiting for a miracle from Scarface, there's no one who can defeat him - the Dark Lord is invincible!"

At first, Dawn had been taken aback by Draco's hostile attitude. Then she listened. She waited patiently as he ranted and when he was done, she fixed him with her best hard, no-nonsense look.

"Okay, I get that this Dark Lord of yours is really evil, super powerful, way too ambitious for his own good and probably quite ugly just to top things off. But you know what? There's no such thing as invincible. You and I might not be able to defeat him, that Dumble-whatever guy might not have been able to defeat him, but there definitely exists a way to defeat him. And anyway, I'm not telling you to fight him; I'm asking you to run away!"

"Run away. . .?" Draco looked stunned for a moment, before shaking his head with a sigh. "I can't."

"Why? Because your father wants you to become a good little minion?"

Draco's head snapped up, sparks of anger practically leaping out of his eyes, his frame shaking with barely restrained emotion. Suddenly, he rolled up the left sleeve of his robes and showed her his forearm. Dawn gasped.

"Do you see this? This is the Dark Mark. It marks me as a Death Eater, a servant of the Dark Lord. It's a link between me and him - as long as I have this mark, he can find me and summon me to his side. And before you ask, it can't be destroyed. The magic used to create it is too strong."

Dawn stared at the angry, evil-looking tattoo on his arm, mesmerized by the dark aura surrounding it. She didn't doubt his words that getting rid of it would be difficult. But difficult never stopped her sister.

Draco rolled his sleeve back down. "Running away would be pointless as long as I have this mark."

"Forget the stupid mark," said Dawn evenly. "I mean, it's definitely not the most fashionable thing in the world - kinda gaudy actually - but we'll deal. If nothing else we've got a really old and really powerful demon on our side, right? I kinda doubt your Dark Lord can top that."

"Lady Dawn, they are here," Azazella stated.

"Damn. Will they be able to get through?"

"It will likely take them a while, but yes, their spells will eventually be able to break the seal. I have only just awoken. My powers are not yet whole."

"Double damn." Dawn sighed and turned back to Draco. "Listen, Draco, Azazella and I are getting out of here. So, really, it's all about whether or not you're joining us. I mean, you'll probably be in a lot of trouble for letting us escape anyway, right?"

"Why are you so adamant about this?!" Draco cried, panic beginning to colour his voice.

"Because your mother asked me to!"

Centuries seemed to pass in the ensuing silence during which the two just stared at each other. Suddenly, there was a bang from the other side of the door.

"Mr. Malfoy!" someone called.

They jumped in alarm. Now Dawn was also beginning to panic. She grabbed Draco by the arm and looked into his eyes.

"Look, your mother came to see me the night before she died," she began quickly, barely stopping to pause for breath. "She said my mom had spoken to her in a dream and told her I could help you get away from here. She loved you very much. She knew she was going to die if you failed your task, but she didn't want you to become a heartless murderer." Dawn paused when she noticed the corners of his eyes begin to water. There was another bang from the other side of the door. "Your mother died happy, knowing you would get a second chance. She asked me to take you with me when I escaped from here and I promised her I would. But I'm not going to force you."

"My-my mother, she died _for _me?"

"Yes. Draco, please, please don't make her death meaningless."

Dawn pleaded with her eyes, practically willing him to say 'yes'. The more she talked to him, the more she truly felt she wanted to save this boy.

There was a surge of magic from the door.

"Lady Dawn, we do not have much longer," said Azazella.

"Draco?"

Draco took a deep breath and nodded. "Yes, alright, I-I'll go with you."

Dawn beamed at him and then turned to Azazella.

"Okay, so how do we do this whole great escape thing?"

The demon walked up to them and placed an arm on each of their shoulders

"Think of where you want to go," she said. Dawn thought for two seconds before turning to Draco.

"You do it, think of someplace safe," she said. "Somewhere the Dark Lord can't easily get to us. Even if it's only for a day or two."

Draco looked a bit surprised, but he nodded. Azazella met his eyes and he gulped.

Black-edged flames leapt up and enveloped them.

* * *

Thanks for reading! Please review!

Author's Notes:

**West of London **- According to the Harry Potter Lexicon, Malfoy Manor is located in Whiltshire, which is just west of London. Just thought I'd point that out.

**Willow's spell **- The spell Willow uses here is my own creation. The branches she uses here are _holly_ (which is one of the sacred trees of the druids and used to symbolize truth in heraldry) and _rowan_ (which is considered a magical trees with the ability to protect against malevolent powers in much European tradition and folklore). My thanks to Wikipedia for that info.

Her incantations are in Old English. _"Findan deogollice mihtig lecgans" _translates roughly to "Find hidden powerful places" and _"Awtywan mihtig lecgans" _means "Show me powerful places". Or at least, that's what they should mean. I used an online translator for this, so it's likely not entirely accurate.

**Azazella** - The name is taken from a character in my favourite book, _The Master and Margarita_ by Mikhail Bulgakov, named Azazelo. A commentary on said book identifies Azazelo - or Azazel - as being mentioned several times in the _Old Testament _as the demon of the waterless desert, Satan's standard bearer in Milton's _Paradise Lost _as well as the fallen angel, who taught men magic. None of this really has anything to do with my character, but I figured I'd include the information for anyone interested.


	16. Chapter 15

I'd just like to thank everyone who reviewed the last chapter. Also, a huge thanks to my betas, _Gwen_ and _Biblios_, who read over this monster chapter for me and helped shape it into what it is today. You guys rock!

Disclaimer: I own the prophecy, Azazella and a few other minor details. The rest is all owned by the creative genius of J.K. and Wheadon.

* * *

**Prophecy of the Four**

**Chapter 15 **- Of Magic and Demons

"Crucio!"

Lucius Malfoy screamed as the sickly yellow light hit him across the chest. He fell to the floor in a withering mess of limbs, his eyes wide and full of pain. Minutes passed and eventually, the spell was ended and the screaming stopped.

"I instructed you to cast a binding spell on the woman, Lucius," hissed the Dark Lord.

"I-I did, m-my lord," Lucius rasped between heavy pants, his arms shaking as he tried to left himself off the floor. "The strongest I know."

"Then clearly it wasn't strong enough! Crucio!"

Lucius' arms collapsed underneath him as he screamed again. Severus winced slightly in sympathy for his long-time friend. Still, recent developments were certainly... interesting. He'd also felt the surge of power from the dungeons - had in fact been the first to arrive at the entrance, only to discover the doors been sealed shut by some incredibly powerful spell. It had taken him, Bellatrix and, eventually, the Dark Lord himself about twenty minutes to bring the spell down. By the time they'd managed to get into the dungeons proper, the source of the outburst was gone - along with Draco and one of the Muggle prisoners.

It had hardly surprised Severus when he realized exactly which Muggle prisoner was gone. Confused him, yes, but not surprised. Although what connection said prisoner had to the possibly-not-so-Muggle servant was a complete mystery.

The screaming stopped again and this time, Lucius did not even attempt to raise himself. Instead, he remained twitching on the ground, panting harshly.

The Dark Lord turned away from Lucius, wand still in hand, although not aiming at anything specific for now. He eyed his followers, before turning to the four frightened forms standing close together at the edge of the gathering. They were the youngest of the Death Eaters, guards to the Muggle prisoners.

"What can any of you tell me of the missing Muggle?" the Dark Lord asked them.

"Uh, sh-she was a girl," one of the two larger boys answered.

"H-had long hair," said the other one. "And, uh, didn't cry and scream like the others."

Severus rolled his eyes and stepped forward with a slight bow.

"My lord, if I may?" he said.

Voldemort looked at him with a puzzled expression. "Severus? You have something to add?"

"Indeed. Having visited Draco in the dungeons on several occasions I had the opportunity to meet said Muggle girl and remember her rather well. She and Draco had become... companions of sorts."

"My nephew was making friends with Muggles?!" Bellatrix exclaimed in outrage.

The Dark Lord raised a hand to silence her.

"Bellatrix." Bellatrix apologized quietly and his focus returned to Severus. "Severus, please, do continue. It seems rather unusual that you would pay attention to a mere prisoner."

"It is and I do apologize for inadvertently indicating Draco was befriending the girl. It was more that he tolerated her as a distraction during his guard shifts." Severus paused to think about how he should phrase his next comment. "It was he, who pointed out the girl's peculiarity inasmuch as she seemed partially immune to the presence of dementors."

"Immune to dementors?" The Dark Lord raised a hairless eyebrow.

"Yes. I regret that I never managed to do any actual tests with the girl, however at the time I had more pressing projects demanding my attention."

Voldemort frowned as he scrutinized Severus.

"Was there any evidence the girl was magical?"

"Not to my knowledge, my lord."

"I see..."

Just then, there was a quiet tapping on the door. The Dark Lord's eyes flashed in annoyance.

"Enter!" he called. The door opened and Snape couldn't quite suppress the sneer of distaste at the podgy man who entered. "Yes Pettigrew, what is it?"

"M-my apologies, my lord," the man snivelled. "It's just, well, you said you wished to be informed as soon as the potions ingredients arrived..."

Voldemort's expression immediately brightened.

"I did. This is excellent news!" He turned to back to the potions master. "Severus, you are correct, your attention is better served on other things than some Muggle girl. The fault lies entirely with young Draco for not informing me of his peculiar charge. Now, I believe you have a potion to work on."

"Yes, of course, my lord," Severus said as he bowed. "I will begin the second part of the potion immediately."

"Good."

Taking that as a dismissal, Severus Snape straightened and left the study, for once feeling slightly grateful towards the disgusting rat. As he reached the end of the hallway, he summoned a house elf and ordered a pot of tea for his laboratory.

* * *

"Oh look, the sun's coming up," said Buffy matter-of-factly.

Xander blinked and looked up from the massive book he was reading. Buffy was sitting at the small table in Willow's room with an equally old and massive book open in front of her, but she wasn't paying it any attention. Instead, she had her head propped up by her left arm as she stared dreamily out the window, where the sky was in the process of being painted many vibrant colours.

"Guess that means it's morning," he replied.

Buffy sighed.

"Sunrises can be really beautiful and romantic - all those pretty colours are really nice most of the time. But sometimes, they can just be totally depressing-" She looked down at the book in front of her and made a face. "-'cause they mean you've been up all night and are _still_ completely answer-less."

Xander made a similar face before looking to the bed beside him, where Willow was still asleep. She hadn't woken since she'd been knocked unconscious by the spell the day before.

"Yeah," he said, before yawning widely.

Just then there was a light knock on the door and then Giles peeked in, looking just as haggard as the other two felt. He looked to the bed and sighed. Then he opened the door wider and entered the room, softly closing the door after him. He was carrying several a small stack of books and rolled up maps.

"No change, I take it?" he asked.

"Nope," Buffy answered. "To both Willow and the book thing."

"I was referring to Willow, but thank you for the update nonetheless."

"Have better luck, G-man?" Xander asked.

"Don't call me that and, no, I haven't figured out what would make the location spell react like that. Except for an exceptionally powerful magic source."

"Do you suppose Voldilocks or whatever is actually that powerful?" Buffy asked with a worried frown.

"Voldilocks?" Xander asked. "You realize he's probably got more than three Death Eaters, right?"

"I figured; we would never be so lucky."

Giles cleared his throat as he placed his stack onto the unoccupied chair at the table by the window. Then he took one of the maps and unrolled it flat. Buffy had to move her book to her lap so that the map would fit across the small table.

"Anyway, the first of the illusive dots was in Scotland," he began.

"Yup, we got that part," said Xander. "But what's in Scotland other than rolling hills and hagis?"

"Hogwarts," said Buffy. The two men looked at her in slight surprise.

"Yes, exactly," Giles confirmed.

"Oh, the magic town and castle the coven and Wesley's great, great, grand-something-or-other talked about!" Xander exclaimed.

Giles nodded. "I've been looking through the Watcher's diaries as well as copies of Alphonse Wyndam-Pryce's research notes I was able to find the papers we brought back from one of the warehouses. As it turns out the man was never quite able to let the incident go and did extensive research in an attempt to prove the castle existed."

"But Spike's already said it exists," said Xander in confusion. "It's that wizarding school, right?"

"Currently home to Voldmart's biggest arch nemesis, too, apparently," Buffy added. Giles and Xander looked at each other and blinked. They looked back to Buffy.

"How do you know that?" Giles asked.

"Um... oops. Did I forget to mention Spike's message?" Buffy looked a bit sheepish as both men shook their heads. "He called last night and left a message on the machine. Said he, Connor and Illyria were heading to Scotland to find Hogs Warts, 'cause that Harry Potter kid's apparently stayin' there for the summer. And he's got the top spot on Mr. Big Bad Wizard's hit list. Spike figures the kid might have an idea where to find Voldmart."

"Makes sense, I guess," Xander admitted. "So, that means that Big Mysterious Circle of Light A, is being taken care of. What about Big Mysterious Circle of Light B?"

"Wiltshire," said Giles in an annoyed tone. "Lori's been going through the Watcher's diaries, but apart from the odd vampire or demon, there hasn't been anything of note in that area-"

"Yeah, but that's what they said about Hogwarts and it exists," Xander pointed out.

Giles glared at the young man. "_However_, she did find a few local legends and rumours that seem a bit more interesting."

"Oh."

Their discussion was interrupted by a soft moan from the bed. Before either of the two men could blink, Buffy was out of her chair and at Willow's bedside.

"Wills?" she asked gently.

Eyes fluttered and then slowly opened. Willow closed her eyes again, wincing against the sudden light, before opening them again, this time to look around with a groggy expression.

"Hey, Buff," she said quietly. "W-what happened. My head feels like a bunch of fyarl demons had a pillow fight inside it."

Xander chuckled from the other side of the bed.

"We were kinda hoping you could tell us," he said. "Your mojo went all kabloo-y and then you flew into a chair and got knocked unconscious."

Willow blinked a few times.

"Oh, yeah, I think I remember that now." She paused. "Except for the unconscious part, 'cause of, well, being unconscious and all."

"Right."

"Willow, would you like some water?" Giles asked, holding out a glass of water he'd poured from the pitcher on Willow's bedside table.

"Um, yeah, water would be good, I think."

Buffy and Xander went to help their friend sit up. Willow laughed and shook them off, saying she was fine. She drank the water greedily and then asked if they'd gotten anything useful from her spell. She then listened intently as Giles explained everything, with both Buffy and Xander adding commentary whenever they - not Giles - deemed it necessary.

* * *

Dawn stretched with a satisfied smile as she walked into the large living room. She felt better than she had, well, than she had in the week she'd spent chained up to a dungeon wall. For once, she was well-rested, showered and her clothes were semi-clean (despite Draco's assurances to the contrary, she was still dubious as to whether magically cleaned clothes could truly be considered clean).

Their escape the previous evening ended rather anti-climacticly after the flames surrounding them dispersed and they found themselves in a large, abandoned living room-type place. Draco had looked utterly shocked, his mouth opening and closing like a demented goldfish for several, thoroughly amusing, moments. Then he'd shaken his head and swallowed any comments he'd wanted to make. Apparently, after being whisked away from his magical home by a servant - who turned out to be a very old and powerful demon in disguise - and a girl - who was and wasn't magical - in an eruption of black fire, he'd decided any other questions or complaints would just end up sounding stupid.

Dawn decided he was probably right.

It turned out they were inside a magic school called Hogwarts - the same one Draco attended as a matter of fact - and Azazella had transported them directly inside the dorm Draco stayed in. Except that they called the dorms houses. She knew this, because Draco had immediately launched into a 'lecture mode' that would've made Giles proud and gave her the tour guide's synopsis of the school's history. His chest had puffed out a bit when he'd pointed to the crest above the common room's fireplace and introduced it as the crest of Slytherin House.

The irony of escaping one dungeon only end up in another dungeon did not escape Dawn. Nor did she fail to notice the crest of Slytherin contained a snake. She'd been half-tempted to ask whether one of the other houses had a lion on their crest.

But that just seemed silly - school rivalries could hardly result in an apocalypse... right? Dawn sincerely hoped so, because, really, there was a very definite line, which school rivalries should never, ever cross.

Dawn finished stretching and looked around the common room. It looked almost cozy in her early morning, post-wonderful sleep haze. Her first impression of being decorated by a punk rocker with a green fetish still stood, however. Draco was sitting on a high-backed leather chair beside the lifeless fireplace, pretending to read a book while sipping a mug of tea. He placed his cup down on the mahogany side table next to him and Dawn noticed a plate with fresh fruit and several pastries. Then her eyes spotted the coffee table filled with plates of fruit, pastries, boiled eggs, sausages and an empty cut sitting next to the tea pot.

"Oooh, you got breakfast?!" Dawn practically squealed in delight as her stomach reminded her she hadn't had anything to eat since yesterday morning.

Draco finally looked up at her and raised an eyebrow.

"No," he said, "a house elf popped in to clean and I told it to bring breakfast."

"House elf?" Dawn shook her head. "You know what, right now I don't really care. Food first, caring about strange elvish things later."

Dawn poured herself some tea and grabbed a croissant.

"Wow," she said after her first bite and a moan of pleasure, "this is, like, orgasmicly good."

She didn't notice the slightly startled look Draco sent her. Instead, she grabbed another croissant. And then a danish.

Eventually, Dawn was finished eating and sat back happily as she sipped on her third cup of tea. She suddenly held it out, looking at it as if contemplating its existence.

"You know, I always thought Giles was just being really British when he drank all that tea," she said, thoughtfully. "But, I gotta say, this stuff's really good. I have definitely acquired a new appreciation for tea."

"I'm incredibly happy for you," said Draco, his voice oozing sarcasm out of every syllable. Dawn rolled her eyes.

"So," she said, " these house elves... they didn't happen to mention if it was just us and them in the castle, did they?"

Draco stiffened and frowned, his mood instantly darkening.

"They said there were others spending the summer here as well." He shrugged. "It's probably some of the professors and Filch. And possibly that oaf, Hagrid."

"Hmmm..." Dawn couldn't help but notice how nervous the boy suddenly seemed. "Well, professors would be good. We'll just say you helped me escape - brownie points are always good and people are suckers for the ol' 'damsel in distress rescued by a heroic knight' routine."

Draco snorted and mumbled something sarcastic, but Dawn wasn't paying attention. Her face brightened as an idea occurred to her.

"Or, hang on, you know what? We could just call my sister and then she and Giles and the others will come and get us! Is there a phone around here somewhere?"

Draco stared at her.

"A what?" he asked carefully.

"A phone, you know, like a telephone? To call other people with..." She stared at him for a few moments. "You really don't know, do you?"

Draco shook his head and Dawn sighed. "So, what do you guys do when you want to send a message to someone who's far away?"

"We floo, or send an owl."

Dawn blinked at him, wondering where she should start with that one.

"I'm assuming that by 'flu' you don't mean the illness..."

"No, of course not!" Draco was now looking at her as if she were the world's greatest idiot. "It means you toss floo powder into a fireplace and then say which fireplace you're trying to contact and stick your head in. Of course, both have to be connected to the Floo Network in order for it to work."

"Oh, but of course, that should've been obvious." Dawn stared at the fireplace to her left.

"And no, the common room fireplaces are not connected to the network."

"Neither are the Council's fireplaces," Dawn muttered. With a sigh, she once again turned to Draco. "So what about this owl thing?"

Draco raised an eyebrow. "An owl's a bird. Surely even a stupid Muggle should know that much."

Dawn rolled her eyes. "And mice are animals too, except that not every mouse is a furry little rodent."

"What?"

"Exactly. So, basically, you wizards use owls like carrier pigeons to send messages with."

"Yes."

"I think I've just reached a new appreciation for the wonders of technology." She sighed. "So, is there any way we could get our hands on one of those messenger owls?"

"They'd be in the owlry, obviously."

"Obviously."

Dawn finished her tea and placed her cup back onto the coffee table. Then she hopped up out of her chair.

"Well, lead the way then," she said brightly.

Draco deliberately took his time finishing his tea. Dawn folded her hands across her chest and tapped her left foot as she glared at him. Finally, Draco placed his empty cup onto the side table and dabbed the sides of his mouth with a cloth napkin, before leisurely standing.

"Shall we, then?" he asked innocently. Dawn glared some more as she followed him towards the front of the room.

Dawn noticed Draco hesitate and take a deep breath as he stood in front of a large portrait. Dawn's eyes widened as the portrait swung inwards and Draco stepped through the revealed opening. She followed him out into what was most certainly a dungeon corridor. As the portrait swung closed after them, leaving a blank stone wall, Draco turned to Dawn.

"By the way, the password to get back in is 'Sunnydale'," he said. "I changed it this morning - seems McGonagall didn't get around to revoking my prefect status yet."

"Sunnydale, huh?" Dawn smirked. "So you were paying attention, after all."

Draco turned away from her with a huff and began to walk away.

"Don't get too carried away there, Muggle, I simply remembered the name and decided no one else would ever guess such an insignificant place as the password to Slytherin House."

Dawn chuckled as she followed the blond wizard out of the dungeons.

* * *

"Okay, you promise to be careful this time, right Willow?" Buffy said for the third time. Willow rolled her eyes.

"Careful there, B, you're in danger of turning into a mother hen," Faith teased. Buffy stuck her tongue out at her.

"Don't worry Buffy," said Willow before the slayers could start truly bickering. "I promise I won't fight with the magical circles. I'm just doing a quick scan of the areas to see if I can figure out which map Dawn's on. Quick and easy and totally painless."

"I hope so."

"Alright everyone, the Xandman's here and ready to go!" Xander exclaimed as he walked in the door holding a small stack of papers.

They were small maps of the areas where Willow's locator spell had showed the strongest magic. Once again, Willow was sitting inside a circle created by rowan and holly branches and four candles. Across from her, just inside the circle, lay a pea green handbag - the one Dawn had been carrying when she disappeared.

Xander came over and carefully placed the first map into the centre of the circle. Then he stepped back. Willow looked at the map and raised her eyebrows in question.

"London?" she asked. Xander shrugged.

"Just figured we might as well start with the city we're all in," he said. "You gotta admit you'd feel kinda silly if we went through everything else only to find out she's on the same map we are."

"Good thinking, Xander," said Buffy.

Willow didn't say anything, just closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Everyone else quieted, watching the witch intently.

"_Findan Dawn Summers_," she chanted.

The candle flames shot up and a wind flew around the branches and over the map. The flames went back to normal as the wind died down. Nothing happened on the map. Willow opened her eyes.

"Not even a twinge," she said. She turned to Buffy. "Dawn's definitely not in London."

Buffy nodded as Willow turned to Xander.

"Okay, give me the next map," she said and Xander switched the map of London for the next one on his stack. Willow eyed his stack with a worried expression. "I hope we find the right one soon, 'cause I'm not sure I actually have the energy to go through all those."

Xander grinned. "Hey, maybe things'll go in our favour for once," he said.

Faith snorted.

* * *

Outside the almost-cozy common room, Dawn realized the dungeons looked just like most other dungeons she'd ever been to - very clean and well-kept dungeons, but dungeons none-the-less. They were even lit with torches (though most dungeons she'd been in were a bit less medieval than that and she had to admit that the complete lack of any sort of technology was a bit unnerving). She was very happy when they finally reached a staircase that seemed to lead upwards and hopefully into a less dreary part of the castle.

Her hopes were not dashed and the staircase exited into what was clearly an entrance hall. It was huge. There were torches everywhere, lighting the space with a warm yellow-y glow. This, she thought, was what a medieval castle was supposed to look like - more or less. The random suits of armour added atmosphere.

Draco paused for a moment and glanced around. Not seeing anyone, he seemed to relax slightly and then turned left, seemingly oblivious to Dawn's amazement. Or possibly not caring about her amazement. He began to walk up a large, white marble staircase, when Dawn spotted a set of double doors at the far end of the hall.

"Hey," she called to Draco, "where do those doors lead?"

Draco stopped and turned slightly to see where she was pointing.

"The Great Hall," he answered.

"The same Great Hall where everyone shares their daily meals?" Dawn asked, wondering why it hadn't occurred to him to go check if any of the staff were there.

"Yes."

Draco's face was a blank mask, but his grip on the banister had tightened. Dawn was beginning to get the impression the blond was hoping to go unnoticed while they were staying inside the castle. Normally she'd be willing to let things lie and go along with him, but they'd already been seen by one of those house elf creatures, so it wasn't like no one knew they were here. And so Dawn decided to bit the proverbial bullet on Draco's behalf and headed towards the double doors.

They weren't nearly as heavy to open as they looked and Dawn couldn't help but wonder if that was the result of magic. She felt so much of it inside the castle that it was hard for her to tell if there was a spell on the doors themselves, or just everywhere else.

Dawn walked into the Great Hall and gasped.

Despite Sunnydale, Willow, various apocalypses, her brief encounters with the Immortal, and even her experiences so far in the Wizarding World, Dawn had never seen anything so completely magical in her life. Instead of torches, the vast room was illuminated by hundreds of candles, which floated just above her head and as she looked up, she realized she could see the sky even though she was indoors. Without even realizing, she was walking up the centre isle, two long tables on either side of her.

"Oi, Muggle!" she heard Draco shout from somewhere behind her.

Slowly, she turned around while still looking upwards.

"Wow," she said when she finally looked to Draco, "this place is amazing!"

Draco was smirking smugly at her, but she didn't care. She could feel the magic in the room and it was nearly overwhelming.

"Well, if you're all done gawking, the owlry isn't actually anywhere near here," Draco finally drawled. Dawn rolled her eyes.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," she said. Then she perked up. "So, where do you normally sit?"

Draco sent her an odd look, like he was wondering if she'd left most of her sanity back in the dungeons. Then he pointed to the table on her far right.

"The Slytherin Table's that one over there," he said. He was starting to look a bit nervous.

"Cool." Then Dawn noticed the shields on the wall. "Oh, and you've got your house crest on the wall above it too..." She stared at the other shield. "I-I think I've seen that other one before... I know that crest from somewhere, I'm sure of it."

"You've seen the Ravenclaw crest?" Draco frowned. "No one outside the Wizarding World should know the Founder's crests. Where did you see it?"

"I'm not sure... but I think it was recently. Maybe. My mind's a bit fuzzy on the details."

Whatever Draco was going to retort was lost as the doors to the Great Hall burst open.

"Malfoy!"

Dawn jumped at the sudden noise. Beside her, Draco appeared to be just as startled. But, his wand was out and pointed towards the intruders by the time Dawn had snapped herself around to look towards the entrance to the Great Hall. She heard Draco mutter a curse under his breath as she sized them up.

There were three of them, a girl and two boys, all looking about Draco's age. One of the boys had bright red hair and was wearing plain brown robes. The other two were wearing more 'normal' clothes - namely jeans and t-shirts. The boy had messy black hair and would have made her sister call for an immediate intervention were she to ever see the horrible-looking glasses and way too baggy jeans. The girl had long, frizzy brown hair, which was tied back into a pony-tail. She seemed the most surprised to see them. The boys just looked plain angry.

They had their wands out and pointed at Dawn and Draco as they walked up the centre isle.

Draco tensed, gripping his wand tighter, and Dawn adjusted her feet so that she could either dodge or attack if necessary.

"What the hell are you doing back here, Malfoy?!" the red head yelled.

"I take it they're not the professors?" Dawn whispered to Draco.

"Do they look like professors?!" he whispered back through gritted teeth.

Dawn shrugged. "You never know. They could be vampires or demons disguised to look like children..."

Draco shot her an incredulous look. Then he looked back to the three newcomers and sneered at them, his eyes filled with cool disdain. Dawn wondered how long he'd practiced in front on his mirror to perfect that particular look.

"I don't see how it's any of your business why I'm here, Weasley," he said coldly. "After all, it's not like you're supposed to be here either."

"We have special permission from Professor McGonagall," the girl piped up from behind the two boys (Dawn decided she really need to get some normal friends if she was finding it strange that it was the boys standing in front of the girl instead of the other way around).

Draco snorted. "Oh but of course, the rules never did apply to the Golden Boy."

"Shut it, Malfoy," the kid with glasses shot back. "Why _we're_ here doesn't matter. You're the last person I'd expect back here. I still can't believe you have the nerve. So, come on, Malfoy, who's going to die this time, then?"

"Dumbledore's dead because of you, you bloody ferret!" the red head practically screamed. "And now you have the nerve to come back here?!"

Dawn's eyes widened slightly in surprise and she glanced quickly to Draco, who was now bristling with anger - and clearly trying very hard not to show any fear. She remembered what Narcissa had said and relaxed; Dumbledore must've been the old man she'd been referring to and Draco couldn't kill the old man despite his parent's lives being on the line. He was just as much a victim in all of this as she herself had been.

She watched the four wizards, studying them closely as the boys continued shouting at each other, getting more and more agitated by the second. She wasn't listening to the words anymore - their argument about as interesting as the pre-fight posturing in some of Xander's cartoons. The girl was hanging back, looking just a bit annoyed at the boys, but not nearly annoyed enough to put a stop to it. Every once in a while, she'd shoot Dawn a curious and calculating look. The dark-haired boy seemed to be the leader-of-sorts and it was him that Draco was paying the most attention to.

"I am not here on anyone's orders," Draco spat. He was seething and Dawn decided she might need to intervene soon, before hot heads prevailed and burned the school down even if it was made of stone.

"Oh, what happened then, your mother's skirt's get too flimsy?" the red head taunted. "Did she not spread her legs wide enough for the Snake Bastard?"

"Ronald Weasley!" the girl suddenly exclaimed, outraged. The boy flinched. "That was completely uncalled for!"

Dawn silently agreed with her. She cautiously glanced at Draco. His face was drained of blood, expressionless, his eyes blank.

"Don't you dare speak of my mother ever again, Weasley," he said in a hollow voice. "You have no right to talk about her."

The exact same tone of voice he'd had before trying to use the pain spell on her several days ago. Dawn realized she had to do something quickly, before the situation exploded. She took a deep breath.

"What are you going to do, Malfoy, kill us like all those Muggles you've probably killed for your master?!" demanded the glasses boy.

"He hasn't killed anyone," said Dawn and she quickly stepped between the boys, before she had a chance to think what a supremely stupid idea this was.

Luckily, her sudden appearance seemed to surprise the most volatile anger out of the boys - at least for the moment. She put her hands on her hips and glared them down. All three of them, because she didn't do favourites.

"Now, if you three are done with your little pissing contest, Draco and I have an owlry to find," she said in her best no-nonsense, 'you are all behaving like children' voice. Giles would be proud.

All three of the boys gaped at her. The girl had looked surprised at first, but that quickly turned into amusement.

"You know, I didn't think it was possible to shut them up that fast," she commented. Her two friends turned to her with identically outraged protests. She giggled.

Dawn smirked. "It's a gift," she said. "Also, lots of practice. I'm Dawn, by the way."

"Hermione."

"You-you're American!" the red head suddenly exclaimed. Hermione rolled her eyes.

"When in doubt, state the obvious, right Weasley?" Draco taunted.

"Gee, what gave it away?" Dawn asked sarcastically. "Was it the hair? Is that it? Do I have American hair?" She looked to Draco, who was looking at her in amusement. "I was kinda hoping that living in Italy would give me Italian hair."

"You lived in Italy?" he asked.

"Yeah, well, actually, I _do_ live in Italy. I was on vacation visiting Giles and the others." She paused. "Could've totally done without the dungeon tour of England, of course."

"Um, who are you exactly?" the black-haired boy interrupted, looking rather confused. "And why are you with Malfoy?"

"By Malfoy, I take it you mean Draco, right...?" Suddenly, Dawn remembered something and felt very, very silly. "Oh, wait! Duh! Of course!" She turned to Draco. "Your mom introduced herself as Narcissa Malfoy, so obviously that means your last name's Malfoy too!"

Draco looked away and Dawn took that to mean she needed to change the subject. She turned back to the dark-haired boy.

"Which kinda reminds me that I still don't know your name, Four-Eyes."

He seemed surprised, as if he wasn't expecting her to ask.

"Don't tell her anything, Harry!" the red head said. "She's probably a Death Eater spy, dressed to look like a Muggle to throw us off guard! Remember, Moody said You-Know-Who was recruiting from America."

"Sorry to disappoint, Red, but, see, no wandy stick thing." She raised her arms to show that there wasn't one hiding up her short sleeves or in her pockets - and really, having to carry those around all the time must be very inconvenient. "I'm about as Muggle as they come."

Beside her, Draco snorted. Dawn mock-glared at him, daring him to add anything. Luckily, Draco didn't say a word.

Four-Eyes - or Harry, as Red had just given away - just looked confused. "Oi, Hermione, I thought Muggles couldn't enter Hogwarts," he said, half looking back at the girl.

"I don't think it's that they can't enter, so much as that the wards should keep them away," Hermione answered. She appeared thoughtful for a moment before turning to Dawn and Draco. "How exactly did you two get into the castle without anyone knowing? The house elves said they had no idea you were here at all until this morning."

Dawn panicked slightly. She wasn't quite sure what the wizard's stance on demons was, but she was pretty sure any credibility as 'good guys' would go out the window if she admitted to being helped by one. Luckily Draco had an answer ready.

"I stole a portkey from Snape," he said.

"Snape has portkeys to get into Hogwarts?!" Harry exclaimed, horror written all over his face.

"_Had_ a portkey, Potter, or were you not listening when I just said I'd stolen it?"

"You actually expect us to believe that Malfoy, Prince Prat of Purebloods, would go anywhere with a Muggle?!" the red head exclaimed.

"The dungeon got boring," Dawn said with a shrug.

"You ran away from Voldemort?" Harry asked, staring at Draco. Dawn blinked and then frowned at as the other wizards all flinched at the name.

"Uh, for the information of all the Muggles in the group, who's Voldemort?"

There was more flinching, which kinda fascinated Dawn, because she'd never seen anything like it. Harry rolled his eyes at it.

"No, seriously, what is he, the One Who Says Ni?"

Hermione suddenly shrieked in a surprised laugh. Dawn grinned, happy someone had gotten the joke. The boys looked at the two girls blankly.

"Uhh, Voldemort's the name of the Dark Lord," Harry finally answered, having exchanged shrugs with Red.

"Oh." Dawn turned to Draco and put her hands on her hips. "You said no one knew Big Badass Dark Lord's name!"

"I said no one spoke it!" said Draco, glaring back.

"Whatever. It's silly either way."

"A Muggle like you would never understand."

"And that's probably a good thing."

Dawn looked back to Hermione and the boys. They seemed to be having a quiet conference amongst themselves. Dawn figured they were probably trying to figure out what to do with them. Not that she could blame them, really. If these kids had been through half of what she had, then they were probably smart to not trust everyone immediately.

"And how exactly, do we know you're really a Muggle and not just a Death Eater in disguise?" the red head finally turned to Dawn and asked.

Dawn stared at him. "Are you asking me to prove I'm not magical?" she asked, hoping there wasn't actually a test of some sort, because she would inevitably fail it.

Although, if these were the good guys then it shouldn't really matter, she supposed. In fact, they might be more willing to help her if they knew she worked for the Watcher's Council... assuming they knew about the Council. Good guys were supposed to help other good guys right; wasn't there some sort of unwritten rule about it? Yet, there was something holding her back from blurting the truth out to them all.

She'd never thought of herself as having trust issues, but maybe she did.

"Ron, I don't think she's a Death Eater," Hermione told the red-head, placing a hand gently on his shoulder and finally informing Dawn of his name. "Death Eaters all come from magical families, and no matter how well someone can act, there's certain things you can't just learn in a few days. It's true that anyone could dress like a Muggle, but it takes someone who really knows the culture to make spontaneous Monty Python jokes."

"Huh? She was making snake jokes?"

Dawn stared at him.

"Um, Monty Python is a comedy group," Harry tried to explain to his friend. "They have a television show... and a few movies, I think. I don't think my uncle liked them very much."

"You know, I thought it was just Dragon-boy, here, but you wizards really are clueless when it comes to the rest of the world, aren't you?" Dawn suddenly asked.

"That's not true!" Ron was quick to defend himself at the same time as Draco protested at Dawn's new nickname for him.

"Yes, it is," Hermione and Harry both answered, almost in unison.

"Wow, that's just so weird."

"No, it's not," answered Draco. "The Wizarding World is completely separate from the Muggle World. We don't need to know anything about them. They're simply an annoyance."

Harry glared at the blond. "So what, are you saying that they deserve to be wiped out because of that?!"

Dawn stepped between the boys again, both of whom were raising their wands at each other.

"Okay, first of all, there's, like, this huge, cavernous step between ignorance and massacre. And secondly-" she turned to Draco "-I think you're wrong. But I'm so not getting into that argument right now."

Then she turned to the other three.

"But seriously, as much fun as magical wizardland is, I really just want to go home."

"Right, you think we'll just let you go 'ome, so you can tell your master where Harry 'ere is, so he can come kill 'im!" Ron growled.

Dawn sighed.

Draco practically growled at him. "You'd better watch your tongue, Weasley, because the Muggle here's got a-"

"-got a totally kick-ass, older sister, who's going to seriously hurt anyone she thinks has hurt me," Dawn interrupted. Draco frowned at her, but then there was a flash of understanding in his eyes and he didn't respond. "And said sister is probably really worried right about now and wondering if I'm even still alive..."

There were a few moments of silence.

"We're sorry," said Harry, looking truly remorseful. "But we can't really contact anyone from here except for our, um, friends. We can let them know about you and I'm sure they'll be happy to make sure you get home safe-"

"But, what about this owlry? Couldn't I just send my sister a message with an owl?"

"So she can tell You-Know-Who where to find Harry?!" Ron yelled.

"Tell who exactly?" Dawn stared him down. "Emperor Palpatine? Sauron? Lex Luther? Magneto? Wow, do I ever need to stop hanging out with Andrew..."

"Are those Death Eaters?" Ron asked suspiciously.

Dawn gave him a blank look. Then she nodded. "Yes, yes they are," she said with a perfectly straight face. "And they're all based out of my hometown of Sunnydale, California."

"She's having you on, Ron," said Harry with a sigh even as Ron was getting ready to start another argument.

He looked to Hermione, who nodded at him even as she looked thoughtful.

"I've heard of Sunnydale, though," she finally said. Dawn perked up.

"Really?! You have? Wow, and here I was thinking no one had heard of it!"

"Of course, it's that town that got destroyed in a huge gas pipe explosion a couple of years ago."

Dawn felt her face drop. Well, she supposed it was still better than nothing. She wondered if somehow the hellmouth was some sort of a state secret in the Wizarding World.

"Yup, it sure was," was all she said.

"Oh, yeah, I remember Uncle Vernon talking about it with my aunt at dinner one night," said Harry. "Sounded awful, but I'm glad they were able to get everyone out in time."

Dawn stared at them. Then she shook her head and decided any more of this was going to drive her to heights of insanity equal or greater to Drusilla.

"Anyway, so you guys go call or floo or whatever it is you need to do to communicate with whoever it is you need to communicate with and let them know they've got an annoyed Muggle here, who wants to not be here." She turned to Draco, who looked like he was trying very hard to hide how scared he was. "And you can show me where the library is."

"Library?" Draco asked, confused.

"Yeah, library. I mean, this _is_ a school, right? So you _do_ have one?"

"Of course there's a library."

"Then, lead the way, Dragon-boy!"

Draco scowled at her.

"Don't call me that," he said. Dawn waved him off.

"You refuse to call me by my name, hence I get to make up all the cute nicknames I want." She smirked mischievously at him. "Just consider yourself lucky that I don't ever want to be compared to Harmony, or I'd be calling you Blondie-bear just for kicks."

Draco sputtered as Harry and Ron snickered.

"Should we really let them go into the library alone?" Ron asked quietly, although Dawn heard him anyway.

Harry shrugged. "We'll be down there soon, but Dawn there's right, we do need to let the others know they're here. They'll probably want to talk to Malfoy. He is a Death Eater, regardless of whether or not he's making Muggle friends now."

"If they somehow managed to escape from You-Know-Who, then they'll want to talk to both of them," Hermione added. "And they'll be able to tell for sure if they're telling the truth or not."

Harry nodded and then turned to Dawn and Draco.

"Right, so we'll be going to let the others know you're here," he said and then his eyes narrowed and his gaze shifted to Draco. "But we'll have the house elves watch you, so don't even think of doing anything suspicious."

Beside her, Dawn heard Draco's sharp intake of breath and put a placating hand on his shoulder. The simple gesture seemed to throw him off a bit. Harry, Hermione and Ron seemed to consider the conversation closed and began to walk away from them, towards the double doors leading out of the dinning hall.

Dawn leaned in closer to Draco.

"Look," she whispered to him, "if worse comes to, we've always got Azazella... somewhere... right? Until then, we may as well play by their rules."

Draco didn't look reassured, but he did seem thoughtful for a moment. Dawn let him go and they began to follow the trio out of the Great Hall.

"We could wait 'till nightfall to pinch a school broom and fly to London," he said, suddenly in a very low voice.

Dawn froze in her tracks, gaping.

"You wear robes and ride broomsticks." she said slowly in a rather loud voice. The wizards stopped and turned to her.

Draco nodded and Dawn laughed. "So basically, you're telling me the Wizarding World is one big magical cliché?! You know, that is the absolutely most brilliant disguise ever! I can just see a guy walking into a bar and tell his buddy that he saw a witch riding a broomstick. And then the other guy turns to him and says: 'Oh yeah, and was her name Sabrina?'. And when you think about it, that's probably where all the clichés come from!"

Hermione looked thoughtful for a few moments.

"You know, I've never thought of it that way," she said. "But it does make some sense."

Ron elbowed Harry.

"Oi, mate, you have any idea what she's talking about?"

"Um, not reallyl, but I think the Sabrina she's talking about is from a television show," Harry answered, looking at Hermione for confirmation. The girl nodded.

"Is that another thing that runs on elktrity?"

"It's electricity, and, um, sort of. I mean the television runs on electricity..."

Dawn had the distinct feeling like she'd just entered a whole new dimension of weird. She shook her head and chuckled to herself as she passed by the wizards and headed out of the Great Hall.

* * *

Remus picked a book off the shelf and frowned at it.

It was a simple, black, softcover book, slightly bigger than a standard novel size and at least five hundred pages thick. _The Encyclopedia of Modern Vampires _read the title in bold, red letters that took up half the cover. The other half contained a picture of a cartoon vampire, wearing what looked to be a leather jacket, chasing a blond girl in a white ball gown. Underneath the picture, in small white print, it said 'written by the Scoobies and revised by Ripper Giles'.

Remus turned the book around and then snorted as he read the synopsis.

_The bare basics of everything you need to know about vampires in the twenty-first century. Includes well-known facts, little-known facts and some almost-unknown facts._

_Please note: Books don't bite. Vampires do. So, leave the hunting to the experts. This book is intended as a reference guide only._

At the bottom right-hand corner there was a small red heart - the kind one would expect to find on a valentine's decoration - made slightly grisly by a wooden stake run through it.

Remus took the book and brought it to the counter of Flourish and Blott's.

"Excuse me," he said to the young witch, who was using her wand to paint her nails lime green, behind the counter. She looked at him with a slightly bored expression.

"Yeah, what can I do for you?" she asked.

"I was wondering if this really was supposed to be in the 'Muggle Books' section?"

The girl flashed him an annoyed look.

"Does it look like a Wizard book to you, luv?" she asked.

"Well, I, um, the picture on the cover isn't moving, so I suppose not..."

"Then it's a Muggle book and therefore belongs in that section."

"Even though it's about vampires?"

She shrugged. "Muggles write about all sorts of things, yeah. Doesn't actually mean they know what they're talking about o' course."

Remus conceded her point and paused, considering the book in his hand. Then he shrugged and added it to his small pile, which he then placed on the counter.

"I'll take these, then, if I could," he said.

"You're gonna trust a Muggle book about vampires?" she asked, surprised (and Remus had to admit it did look horribly out-of-place next to his other, much more scholarly texts).

"Curiosity," he said simply. "After all, we all need something to laugh about during these times."

The witch behind the counter smiled.

"True enough."

She rang the purchase through and Remus paid her. Then she tapped her wand on top of the stack and whispered a spell. Suddenly, the brown paper underneath the books came to life and wrapped itself into a neat package tied with string. Remus thanked her and took the package, which he then shrunk and put in his robe pocket.

It was as he opened the door to leave that the screaming started. Remus froze in the doorway.

"What's going on?!" the witch from behind the counter called. He turned back and met her scared eyes.

"I'm not sure," he answered, wand already in hand. "Just stay inside."

The girl's eyes widened, but he didn't have time for any more reassurances. Remus rushed out the door, running against the surging, panicked crowd of Diagon Alley.

It didn't take him long to find the reason for the panic - not that he hadn't guessed it the moment he'd heard the first scream. The black cloaks and white masks were easy to spot, if only because everyone else was running away from them.

There were four of them in the group he came across, although he knew there had to be more nearby. The sight chilled him to the bone even as his blood boiled in anger at how casually they flicked dark curses into the crowd. Wizard after wizard fell lifelessly to the ground as one Death Eater cast one Avada Kadavra after another. He became Remus's first target.

"Expelliarmus!" Remus cast, but at the exact moment someone bumped past him, throwing off his aim. The spell hit the Death Eater's opposite shoulder instead.

Remus cursed at losing his element of surprise. The Death Eater spun around to face him directly and cast a spell Remus couldn't quite hear.

"Protego!" he shouted. A shield appeared out of his wand just in time to protect him from the spell. It was a powerful one - he could feel the impact reverberate through his wand.

Quickly, Remus dissolved the shield.

"Confringo!" he cried.

The Death Eater put up a shield of his own and the spell bounced off harmlessly. However, one of the others had noticed the duel and decided to help his comrade-in-arms. Remus barely dodged the curse by ducking behind an abandoned amulet stand.

He took a deep breath before jumping to his feet and firing back a curse at the second Death Eater. He ducked back down almost immediately, but the cry of pain he heard told him his spell had hit its mark. He wasn't given time to celebrate his small victory, because just then a spell hit the stand he was hiding behind, making it rock violently, before splitting neatly down the middle.

Remus shuffled a bit to the right in order to stay under as much cover as he could. He jumped backwards, as a second spell hit the stand and it burst into flames.

His eyes widened. And then they widened some more as he finally caught sight of the amulets swinging from a wooden rod that ran across the top of the stand. He recognized a few of them - made using hair, teeth and fur of magical creatures as their bases, they acted like wands and exploded when thrown into fire. One amulet on its own wouldn't do much damage, but Remus could see at least two dozen hanging just above his head and he had no idea what was laying on the stand proper.

Remus didn't think twice, only hoped he was right and that this would world. He pointed his wand at the base of the burning wreck.

"Wingardium Leviosa," he chanted quietly.

He grit his teeth as he carefully levitated the stand, trying to keep it steady at only about a centimetre above the ground, so it would go unnoticed by the Death Eaters. He waited. The flames continued to spread, reaching higher, until finally the amulets were completely immersed in flames.

Remus flicked his wand and the broken stand went flying towards the Death Eaters.

The two in front were knocked down. Their cries attracted the attention of the others. One ran over to help. Then the amulets exploded in a multi-coloured blast, spreading fire to all three Death Eaters in the process.

Remus rolled to the side in order to avoid the sparks of magical fire. He heard shouting and screaming coming from the Death Eaters and grinned in satisfaction. Somewhere deep inside him, he felt a resonating growl of victory.

Then he was on his feet again, circling around the fire so he could take aim again. One Death Eater he knocked unconscious with a single spell. But his companions were quick to react and suddenly Remus found himself bombarded by numerous curses all at once. He put up a magical shield and concentrated all his energy on re-enforcing it.

He was concentrating so hard on maintaining the spell, it took him a few moments to notice when the barrage lessened. He looked up and saw several of his opponents (and when exactly had all these other Death Eaters arrived anyway?!) casting curses at a huge, lit-up jack-o-lantern. Remus almost lost his concentration for a moment as he took in the bizarre sight.

A red-haired head popped out from behind the jack-o-lantern on the left side and fired a spell at the closest Death Eater. He put up a shield, but the spell wasn't aiming at his torso and hit his feet dead-on. There was a scream as his feet were encased in a thick layer of ice. The first red head was already back behind his shelter as another red head peeked out from the other side. Another spell was cast at the Death Eater and the second red head ducked away again.

There were several seconds of nothing and then the ice surrounding the Death Eater's feet began to expand, slowly creeping upwards. The Death Eater began panicking. He screamed spell after spell at the growing ice, but it only seemed to move faster.

Another spell hit Remus's shield and the werewolf realized he had other things to worry about than the strange, yet apparently successful, battle tactics of the Weasley Twins. His eyes narrowed at his opponents in determination. He wasn't about to let his former students out-do him - he wasn't that old yet.

The Death Eater cast a curse. The very second Remus felt it bounce of his shield, he dissolved it and cast a Conjunctivitis charm. The sudden change of pace caught the dark wizard by surprise and he was knocked several steps backwards as the spell hit and blinded him. Remus quickly followed up with a body-bind spell.

Then he ran towards the Weasley Twins, where he saw that one of the Death Eaters had managed to blast a hole into their jack-o-lantern.

He never saw the curse coming.

One moment he was running, the next every nerve in his body was screaming in pain. It was like a million red hot irons were driving into him, searing him through with fire. The pain was his world. Somewhere inside, he could hear the wolf howling as well.

When the pain stopped, it was so sudden, he found himself completely disorientated. Had someone asked him his name in that moment, he wasn't sure he could've answered.

Slowly, reason came back to him. He was laying on his side on a cobblestone street. His body was shaking and he was panting heavily. His body felt feverish and his throat felt sore. It sort of reminded him of when he'd caught a bad case of the flu one Christmas and his mum had gotten him a standard potion from the apothecary. She hadn't known then to ask for one that had been brewed without silver implements.

But he wasn't in St. Mungo's now, he was in the middle of a battlefield. Remus took a deep breath. He was glad when he realized that, if nothing else, he was at least still clutching his wand.

Slowly, he let out the breath and rolled himself over onto all fours, before leaning backwards so that he was at least kneeling instead of just laying helplessly on the ground. He looked up and took in the scene before him.

The first thing he saw was Arthur Weasley, wand drawn and looking murderous. Then Remus saw his opponent: Bellatrix Lestrange.

The wolf inside him growled.

And then one of Bellatrix's spells hit him dead on and Arthur crumbled to the ground.

"Dad!" Remus heard a voice cry out.

Bellatrix smirked as she turned to Remus. He scrambled shakily to his feet, knowing it would take a miracle for him to win against her in his current state, but not willing to give up just yet. Or ever. Padfoot would revoke his Marauder's status if he did. In fact, unless the afterlife consisted of a room full of beautiful women, he'd probably never hear the end of it. Ever.

Suddenly, one of the Death Eaters grabbed Bellatrix by the arm. She snarled at him and he quickly let go, as if he'd been burned, and took a step back. He said something in a low voice and pointed somewhere to Remus's left. Bellatrix looked in that direction and her eyes widened. Her face split into a menacing grin.

Remus quickly glanced as well.

There was a young woman. She had long, brown hair tied back into a pony tail and was wearing a plain white shirt over a pair of dark green khakis with a multitude of pockets.

"Bloody hell," said Remus under his breath. Why was there a Muggle in the middle of Diagon Alley?! Had the Death Eaters somehow managed to blast a hole into the magical barriers between the Wizarding district and Muggle London?

"Oi!" he called to her as loudly as his strained vocal cords would allow. "You there, run! Get out of here!"

Suddenly, he felt a sharp pain in his chest and heard several cracks. He screamed and fell backwards, cursing himself for letting his guard down.

"This one doesn't concern you, werewolf!" Bellatrix snarled at him

Remus attempted to stand again, but fell back with a hiss as sharp pain ran through him. The ribs were broken.

He turned his head to see if the woman had ran off. She hadn't. Instead, she was standing in the same stop she had before, staring at him, studying him like some sort of rare specimen of something. He cursed. Did this girl have no sense of self-preservation?!

"Well, hello there, Angela, dear," said Bellatrix. Remus frowned.

The woman turned her head away from Remus and towards the dark witch. She walked several steps closer and stared at her.

"You are Bellatrix Lestrange," she said, her voice oddly flat.

Remus looked between the two. They knew each other?! Did He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named have Death Eaters going undercover as Muggles? Except the more he looked at Bellatrix's face the more he realized she didn't seem to be looking at woman like she would at an ally.

"You've just proved how chronically stupid Muggles are," Bellatrix sneered. "If you'd been smart, you would've stayed hidden. Now tell me, where is my nephew?!"

The woman cocked her head.

"Nephew?" she said, looking as though she were thinking about it. "You mean the blond boy. He is safe. Lady Dawn requested that he accompany us, so I took him as well."

"And where are they, exactly?"

"Safe."

Bellatrix raised her wand.

"Crucio!"

The woman screamed and fell to her knees. Remus raised his wand and pointed it at the dark witch, but before he could utter the spell, the screaming stopped. Bellatrix cursed under her breath as the woman rose calmly to her feet.

"What a shame, I'd forgotten about your little trick," said Bellatrix and Remus frowned in confusion, but kept his wand at the ready. "But, it doesn't really matter. The Dark Lord never said he wanted you back alive. And young Draco knows he can't escape the Dark Mark. We'll find him in the end."

"Confringo!" Remus called as Bellatrix was about to cast again. She neatly side-stepped the curse and returned it with one of her own.

Remus screamed as his wand arm snapped. White dots danced in front of his eyes.

"Just lay still, werewolf," he vaguely heard Bellatrix say. "I'll play with you later."

After a few moments of willing himself not to pass out, he finally managed to open his eyes. The Muggle woman was looking at him again. No, she was staring at him like he was an interesting specimen of something again.

"Werewolf," she said slowly. "I see. So that is the beast I smell."

Remus only had enough awareness left by the pain to wonder what a strange statement that was. He looked back to Bellatrix. She looked furious at being ignored. She raised her wand.

"Avada Kadavra," she said clearly and a sickly green light left her wand.

It hit the woman directly in the middle of her chest. She hadn't even moved. And then she continued not moving. She just stood in the middle of Diagon Alley. Alive.

Remus stared.

He started as someone suddenly knelt beside him.

"Bloody hell," said a familiar voice. "Did I- Was that really a killing curse I just saw there?!"

Remus nodded and then looked up at the face of Charlie Weasley, who was staring at the scene in nothing short of absolute amazement. He looked back, to make sure the woman hadn't fallen down in the meantime.

She was looking a stunned Bellatrix directly in the eyes and smiling menacingly.

"My master ordered me not kill anyone except in self-defence," she said, her voice suddenly strong and booming. "I believe this is now enough to justify self-defence."

And then her eyes began to glow red.

* * *

Draco was in the middle of trying to pretend the probably useful text on untraceable spells he was reading was actually succeeding in distracting him from his worries when a large, open tome literally dropped onto the table in front of him. He jumped slightly at the sudden noise and lifted his head up from where he'd had it propped up with his left hand. He looked up at Dawn's - not that he'd ever admit to actually remembering her name - smug expression.

"You know, I think I'm actually willing to forgive all of you for not knowing about Sunnydale," she said as a way of greeting.

Draco scowled at her.

"How generous of you, Muggle," he said. "Though you're forgetting that I don't care about some silly little American town."

Dawn waved away his comment.

"I mean, it's taken me all afternoon to find anything and I'm practically an expert at finding info on Sunnydale-iness. And, in the end, I had to go into the back into some creepy-looking cage area. What kind of library has a cage inside?! Except for the old Sunnydale one, but I hardly think it's the same."

"You went into the Restricted Section?" Draco asked, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

"Guess so."

She gave Draco an expectant look and motioned at the book in front of him. Draco sighed and picked it up, deciding to humour her.

Two sentences into the paragraph, he was already gaping. He read to the end of the page and looked back up at the Muggle.

"You-you're from...?" Dawn nodded. Draco looked back at the book. "Bloody hell."

"That explains the dementors, then."

Dawn grinned down at him. "Soul-sucking beasties were the least of our problems in that town."

"Right..."

"Oi, should she really be reading the books?" she heard Ron ask his friends in what probably counted for him as a whisper. Dawn rolled her eyes.

"You know, technically, I'm not actually the one reading the book," she called back, looking over her shoulder at where the trio had their own materials spread out in front of them. "I just brought it over for Draco to read. Decided he needed educating about gas pipe explosions."

Before anyone could ask what the hell she was talking about, the library door slammed open.

"Harry, Ron, Hermione!" a voice yelled into the library. Dawn saw a handsome, red-haired face peeking in.

"Charlie?!" Ron answered. "What are you doing-"

"There's been an attack on Diagon Alley and St. Mungo's is overflowing, so we've taken some of the Order members to the infirmary here. We can use all the help we can get to set things up for Madame Pomphrey."

As the three young wizards ran past her, Dawn looked to Draco. His face looked paler than usual.

"Um, Diagon Alley?" she asked.

"It's the Wizarding District in central London."

"Gotcha." She paused, watching his expression thoughtfully. "Should we maybe relocate back to the dungeons for now?"

Draco nodded eagerly and each picked up the several books they'd found and left for the dungeons. Draco made sure to bring the book Dawn had found him, although he hid it at the bottom of the pile.

* * *

Her sneakers were noiseless as Buffy strolled along the paved paths of the park, lost in thought. The park was silent tonight, peaceful. Had she not been so preoccupied, the blonde slayer may have wondered at how different it seemed, how unremarkable considering she'd nearly died in it only several nights ago.

As it was, however, Buffy was barely aware she was in the same park.

Her thoughts were in a whirl; too many things were happening and instinct told her they were big. And she knew by now that her instinct was usually right.

They knew Dawn was somewhere in Scotland. So were Spike, Connor and Illyria.

Buffy had talked to them over the phone and they'd said the castle they were looking for was being rather illusive. Buffy couldn't help but wonder why Spike seemed to think castles could move... Illyria said she could feel some wizarding magic, but couldn't quite tell from where. Connor said she was spending a lot of time staring into space.

Buffy thought they sounded like a dysfunctional family on a road trip. But she didn't say anything, because, well, who was she to judge?

The three of them had become much more serious when they heard Dawn was close-by and Buffy almost felt sorry for anyone or anything that tried to get in their way of finding her. Almost. She just wished she'd gone with them. Being stuck in London, while others led the rescue was horribly nerve-wracking and if they didn't find Dawn within the next two days, Buffy knew that not even Giles would be able to keep her in London. If she had to, she'd even subject the poor, unsuspecting British populace to her unparalleled driving skills.

But there were other things on her mind, as well. It was the other spot on the map - the one that had given Willow so much trouble before exploding - that worried her. Willow had tried the locating spell on a map of that area first, but found neither 'Dawnness' on it nor anything that could've possibly caused the magical rebound. Yet Buffy couldn't shake the feeling that the area was important.

There was a prophecy, an evil, magical overlord, weird, unexplainable power that sends powerful witches flying into armchairs through _maps_ and some secret shadowy enemy, who had the power to raise demon armies and block messages from the Powers That Be. Even with Dawn back safe and sound, this would not spell anything good. Quite the opposite: if all that could be summed up into a simple, convenient acronym, it would be B.A.D. - possibly with a V.U. at the beginning to stand for Very and Uber.

She was approaching the end of the park when, suddenly, something changed. Buffy frowned slightly and slowed her steps, not wanting to completely alert whatever-it-was. She wasn't even sure what had alerted her. She couldn't sense any demons, couldn't hear or smell anything suspicious and, except for her, the park was deserted. Then a breeze blew, bringing with it the gentle scent of lilac.

"Worry not, Chosen One," a gentle voice sang.

Buffy froze and swung around, her hand automatically reaching for her sword as she scanned the park. She felt the demon the moment she saw it. Well, she felt it in any case; the long-haired woman didn't really look very demonic. Buffy suddenly knew this demon was the same one Faith had met. The prophet/help/whatever that not-Mayor Wilkins had said was going to be helping them. Slowly, she began to approach the woman.

There was no music or laughter surrounding the demon tonight. In fact, she didn't seem all that crazy at all. At least until one noticed the bare feet. The closer Buffy got, the more certain she was that this was the prophetic demon. The description matched, for one: long, tangled blonde hair, white, tattered dress and strange, antique-looking jewellery (which Giles would likely kill for a chance to catalogue). Oh, and she was very, clearly blind. However, tonight she'd also donned a beautiful blood red cape. It made her look regal.

Buffy took out her sword and held it in front of her using both hands.

"Who are you?" Buffy asked. "Are you one of the Ancients?"

The demon held up a hand to silence her.

"I am one who heard Bennu's first cry and watched as Marduk scattered blood."

Buffy glared at her. The demon smiled back and the smile made Buffy shiver, because the vacant innocence reminded her of Drusilla. The smile remained as she spoke.

"You have done well, Chosen one, but turn your eyes a different way.

The one you once protected no longer needs your sword.

Power from the lake will make her awake.

Her wings will spread, her scales will arm,

and the Fourth she will become."

For several moments, all Buffy could do was stare at the demon with wide eyes.

"No," she finally whispered.

Just then, the woman's skin seemed to shimmer blue and white under the moonlight and her eyes glowed. Buffy sprang into action and ran towards her.

"No!" Buffy exclaimed. She reached the demon and swung her sword. "You're wrong!"

The demon was gone before Buffy finished swinging and all that was left was empty air. Buffy looked around her wildly, trying with all her might to spot the demon again.

"You've got to be wrong!" she screamed.

Then the blonde collapsed to her knees, her sword dropping uselessly to the ground as she grabbed clumps of her own hair in her hands. Her eyes screwed shut, as if hoping to shut out reality.

"Dawn," she said with a chocked sob.

* * *

Well, I hope everyone enjoyed that! Please review if you have any comments/criticisms to make.

Author's Notes:

_Finden Dawn Summers _- Should roughly mean 'Find Dawn Summers'. Willow's essentially using the same spell, therefore the incantation is similar.

_The One who says Ni_ - Yup, from Monty Python's _Holy Grail_. The whole flinching thing has always reminded me of that, so I decided Dawn was the perfect person to mention it.

_Magic Spells _- All the spells used by Remus and the Death Eaters in Diagon Alley are from the books. The Harry Potter Lexicon was a real lifesaver for this part. Oh, I suppose the ice spell used by the Weasley Twins might be my own creation... I'm not really sure if something like that exists in cannon.

_Bennu and Marduk _- that line will be explained by Giles in the very near future of this story, so I'm not going to bother doing it here. Anyone who figures out what it means on their own gets cookies... mint chocolate chip cookies.


	17. Chapter 16

Here it is: a brand, spanking new chapter! =D

I'd just like to thank my betas, the lovely **Gwen** and **Biblios**, who helped me make this chapter better than it was. And to everyone, who reviewed the last chapter.

Disclaimer: I own the prophecy and any OCs that pop up. Everything else belongs to people other than me.

* * *

**The Prophecy of Four**

**Chapter 16** - At Hogwarts

Footsteps coming from the upstairs landing roused Buffy from her daze and she blinked, looking up at the digital clock on the stove. It read 6:30. She frowned, wondering who could possibly be up this early. Then she turned back to the book in front of her as she extended one hand to grab the coffee cup sitting next to her.

She frowned when she couldn't find her place on the page and then noticed the entire page looked completely unfamiliar. She groaned. She'd just spent fifteen minutes staring at the page and hadn't read a word.

As the footsteps made their way down the stairs, Buffy wondered if perhaps it wouldn't be best if she were to just go to bed and let someone else deal with the research bit. Give up while she was behind.

The footsteps got steadily closer. Then, there was a surprised gasp and Buffy looked up. She would've giggled at the pink Smurfette pyjamas Lori was wearing if she wasn't so tired.

"There's kinda fresh coffee in the pot," she said instead, waving in the general direction of the coffee pot.

"Oh, uh, thank you," said Lori, before stifling a yawn with the back of her palm. "What are you doing up so early?"

"Up so late, not up so early," Buffy corrected and then also yawned. "Haven't been to bed yet."

"What?! Whyever not?"

Buffy shrugged. "Research. Well, it was supposed to be research. Stupid books aren't co-operating, keep blurring their letters together."

Lori snorted as she poured herself some coffee. Buffy glanced at her.

"So, why are you up so early? You don't exactly look like you're ready for a jog."

"Bad dream."

"Oh?"

Lori paused, looking contemplative for a moment, as if she were wondering whether or not to share. In the end she simply shrugged and sat down.

"My ex-husband was in it. Such a pity you can't control your own dreams - I'd love to at least be able to bash the bastard's brains while in my dreams."

Buffy's eyebrows rose in surprise.

"Bad break-up?" she asked, trying not to appear too curious.

"He cheated on me."

Buffy winced in sympathy. "Ouch. Definite bastard."

"Oh, it's not so bad, really. I cheated on him too."

Buffy blinked, confused. Lori chuckled.

"I suppose it just makes it easier for me to think of him as 'the bastard', but really, it was a mutual thing. We'd lost the passion and both knew it. Being together was simply... comfortable. It wasn't as if we didn't know we were cheating on each other, it just wasn't something we talked about."

"So, why did you divorce, then if everything was so, um, comfy?"

"We came to the rather awkward realization we were both sleeping with the same grad student."

Buffy choked on her coffee. Then she stared at the woman across from her. Lori's eyes were sparkling with amusement. Buffy shook her head with a smile.

"Well, with my excitingly disastrous romantic history, I am so not the person to judge."

"I've heard. Now, what exactly was it that you decided you needed to spend all night researching? Not that Rupert won't be happy you've managed to exhaust yourself in a non-violent way that will keep you from attempting to jog to Scotland this afternoon, mind."

"I ran into Faith's demon prophet toni- er, last night."

Lori perked up. "Really? Did she say anything interesting?"

Buffy picked up a piece of paper she'd had on the table beside her and handed it to Lori. Lori took it and read what was on it. Her eyes widened.

"This is what she said?" she asked. Buffy nodded.

"Also, I asked her who she was and she said something about hearing Bennu's first cry and being there to watch Marduk scatter blood." It was now that Lori noticed the notebook sitting next to Buffy. "I've figured out who Bennu and Marduk are, but other than knowing the obvious that she's, like, really, _really_ old, I'm not sure what she meant."

"Hmm, Bennu's an Egyptian phoenix. He represents the sun and the soul of the sun god, Re, as well as being the manifestation of the resurrection of Osiris. Although, I have a feeling what she likely meant was that, according to Egyptian mythology, it was Bennu's cry, at the creation of the world, that marked the beginning of time."

As she paused to think, Buffy suddenly realized she wasn't talking to the watcher here, but the former university professor.

"Marduk, on the other hand, is a Babylonian god. He became the head god after he defeated the mother goddess', Tiamat's, demon army and its leader, who was both her son and her second husband, Kingu. And when he killed Kingu, he scattered his blood upon the Earth and used it to create humans, as servants to the gods."

"So, she's super uber-old," Buffy commented.

"Definitely. I'd say, assuming she's telling the truth, it's probably safe to say she's an Old One."

"An Ancient, maybe?"

"That too - hang on! Didn't Faith say she was blind?!"

"Uh, yeah, she was. It was really creepy... um, where are you going?"

Buffy stared after Lori as the woman raced out of the room. She raced back several minutes later, carrying Dawn's notebook. She put it down onto the table and pointed at several lines of what Buffy immediately recognized as Dawn's prophecy.

"Look, it says right here: _The Three are joined by a fourth, who alone the tale can tell. Blindness gives sight; insanity, wisdom_." Buffy's eyes widened, rather impressed at the very Giles-like fact linking. She met Lori's excited eyes. "The prophet, Phythia, is the fourth Ancient. And she's helping us."

Buffy gasped, finally understanding.

"So that means the Ancients are on our side?"

"Could very well be."

Buffy grinned excitedly, feeling life coming back to her over-exhausted limbs.

"So, do you want to wake the G-man or should I?" she asked. Lori grinned back.

* * *

Dawn yawned as she walked into the Slytherin Common room and then stopped, blinking at the bizarre sight that greeted her.

Azazella was lying on the couch, her arms folded across her chest, seemingly asleep. She looked peaceful, despite the armour and spears (which no longer crossed on her back, but lay next to her on the couch). Even in sleep, the demon managed to look like someone you really didn't want to mess with.

Dawn looked around the room, wishing she could see outside, so she could tell what time it was. Wizards may have hundreds of neat spells at their commands, but she couldn't help think they seemed very impractical. Clocks, for instance, were such a useful invention and yet she hadn't seen one anywhere. She assumed it was still relatively early, since Draco wasn't about yet (although, that could have had something to do with the demon lounging on the couch).

Dawn looked back to said demon and started at the molten red eyes that stared back at her.

"Oh, uh, good morning," said Dawn with more nervousness in her voice than she would've liked. Azazella inclined her head.

"Good morning, Lady Dawn," her deep voice answered as she sat up and swung her legs around to touch the floor.

"Um, were you here all night?"

What Dawn had really wanted to asked was where she had been all day yesterday, but somehow she wasn't sure she had any right to... or that the demon wouldn't tear her in half if she did.

"Yes," Azazella replied. "You would not be able to call me if you were caught unaware."

Dawn blinked. "Call you? Huh? How?"

Azazella cocked her head thoughtfully.

"You are my master; I have sworn an oath of fealty to you. I will sense if you are in danger and you alone may call me. I shall hear you and I shall come."

"Oh. Well that answers the "how do we get a hold of you if we need to use your magical fire transporter to boot it the hell out of here" question."

Azazella's gaze sharpened.

"Are you not safe here?" she demanded.

"Oh we are, sort of... for now, anyway. Draco's just a bit nervous, 'cause his tattoo makes him an official member of the DLV fanclub and the folks here are of the anti-DLV variety."

"DLV?" The demon warrior looked slightly perplexed.

"Dark Lord Voldemort. That's his name, but I thought it was way too long and pretentious, so I shortened it. Plus, the name-mangling drives Draco nuts. Can't wait 'till he meets my sister."

Azazella chucked, amusement dancing in her eyes. And, suddenly, Dawn wasn't as afraid of her as she'd been before - as if discovering a sense of humour made her less threatening.

"Anyway, Draco's afraid they're going to drag him off to some Wizarding prison and I've promised him I won't let them - not that he actually believes me or anything. It took all of my awesome persuasive powers to convince him moonlight escape on broomsticks was a horrible idea. Although, I think he still snuck out and stole one just in case."

"Wizards are odd creatures."

Dawn laughed.

"Tell me about it! I lived on the Hellmouth and this place still ranks higher on the kooky scale."

"You wish to stay here for now, however?"

"Uh, yeah. I'd like to at least get another look at that library. I was researching a prophecy before I was kidnapped and finding pretty much nothing outside of the actual prophecy. Seems like a huge waste to be inside a magic school with a library full of genuine magic books and not use it. Plus, there's a part of the prophecy that... well, I kinda can't help getting the inkling that it might be related to the Wizarding World, so before I leave this weird magical wonderland behind, I wanna make sure." She paused. "Plus, I should also find out as much as I can about DLV. See if he's a problem the Council will need to deal with or not."

Azazella nodded. Dawn's stomach grumbled.

"Uh, I think I should go find the kitchens. Can't be too hard, right? I mean, most of the furniture around here seems to be very Disney-like, so I'm sure getting directions shouldn't be too hard. Having said that, I feel like mentioning to someone that if I find a talking candlestick, I may have to steal it and take it with me when I leave. So, uh, could you tell Draco I'll meet him in the library - he hasn't left yet, has he?"

"No."

"Cool. So, yeah, when he comes out could you tell him I'm going to find food and then go to the library?"

"Of course, Lady Dawn."

"Thanks!"

Dawn left the Slytherin Common Room feeling a bit more confident, knowing she could actually back her words up and didn't have to let the Wizards and their magic push her around.

* * *

The first thing Remus noticed as his mind navigated the final layers of mist surrounding it, was the smell. Was is the full moon already? He certainly didn't remember transforming, let alone coming to Hogwarts to do so. Slowly, he opened his eyes. The image he saw was still blurry from sleep - and probably helped by whatever potions Poppy had given him - but he'd spent enough time in the Hogwarts medical wing to recognize the ceiling.

He closed his eyes again to take stock of his injuries and frowned. He felt fine. Well, his wand arm felt a bit sore and his head had a small orchestra of House Elves playing off-key inside it, but that was nothing compared to most full moons. He began get up... and let out a surprised cry of pain as his chest exploded in sharp pain.

Apparently he wasn't fine after all. However, as he collapsed back onto his pillow, he at least remembered why he was injured in the first place: the attack, flinging a flaming cart of magical amulets at several Death Eaters, facing Bellatrix, hearing his own ribs crack, his wand arm snapping and then the Muggle...

"Remus!"

"Madame Pomfrey-"

"-Remus is awake!"

Through the slight disorientation of pain and potions, Remus realized the voices were familiar. He felt a shadow fall across his face and opened his eyes. Worried brown eyes surrounded by freckles looked down at him.

"Charlie," Remus rasped, his throat suddenly piping up to tell him how dry it was.

"Remus, would you like something to drink?" Charlie asked, already glancing towards the table beside Remus's bed, where a pitcher of water was sitting along with several glasses. He began to pour the water.

"Don't even think of giving him anything until I've had a look at him!" Charlie jumped slightly, sloshing water onto the table in the process, as Poppy's voice cut through the room. "And you two! Get back into those beds immediately! I said two days of bed-rest and I meant it! Don't think that just because you aren't students of this school anymore, it means I can't spell you to those beds if I have to!"

"But, Madame Pomfrey-"

"-we feel completely-"

"-absolutely-"

"-fine!"

Remus chuckled at the antics of what could only be the Weasley Twins and then winced as the movement jarred his ribs unpleasantly. Charlie moved out of the way as the healer appeared at his bedside. She pointed her wand at Remus and chanted under her breath.

"Now then, how do you feel, Remus?" she asked as she watched the patterns made by the spells she was casting.

"My head hurts and my wand arm's a bit sore, but otherwise I feel fine as long as I don't move," Remus answered.

Poppy nodded, looking satisfied. Then she stopped the diagnostic spells and reached into one of her pockets. She took out two phials and handed it to Remus.

"Here," she said, "this should help with the pain. There's no point in giving you skelegrow. It's hard on the body and as a werewolf, you don't need it - your body's naturally accelerated healing abilities will take care of it in time."

Remus downed the potions and handed it back to her. He frowned as he swallowed the remnants of the second one.

"This tastes different than the usual potions," he said.

A cloud of sadness passed over Poppy's face. "It was something Severus was working on. He'd perfected it just before he, well... before he left. It works by drawing out the patient's natural healing abilities and accelerating them."

"Hang on!" Charlie piped up from where he was leaning against a windowsill. "Are you sure it's alright to trust something Snape cooked up just before betraying us?!"

Poppy sent the dragon tamer a furious glare.

"Mr. Weasley, Severus was a lot of things and I'll admit to being quite baffled by his actions, but he was a perfectionist. He'd done extensive tests on this potion - mostly on himself - even seeking out my help on occasion. Believe me, he took great pride in his abilities as a potions master and would never purposefully ruin one of his greatest achievements just to throw us off for a few days!"

The Hospital Wing was silent. In the silence, something niggled at Remus's mind. He had a feeling things were about to get much more confusing.

"Who brewed this batch then?" he asked quietly.

Poppy turned to look at him with a neutral expression.

"Severus did. No one else knows how. He brewed me about three batches for my supplies."

He heard Charlie's sharp intake of breath.

"What does that mean?" the red head asked.

Poppy shook her head. "I'm not sure. Except that he must've known what was coming."

Remus tried to sit up again, this time with more success - and with the help of both Poppy and Charlie. He settled back against the pillows they'd arranged for him and then looked around the room. Across the aisle, Fred and George Weasley waved at him with wide smiles. He smiled back, happy to see they were fine except for a few scrapes and bandages.

"Do you remember what happened?" Charlie asked him and Remus turned to look up at him. Remus's expression darkened.

"Yes," he whispered. "Assuming I hadn't passed out sooner than I think I did and dreamed the second half of it."

"In that case we all dreamed it. Which I'm not entirely sure would really be such a bad thing, given the alternative."

Remus chuckled dryly. "So, Bellatrix is really..."

"Dead. No room for mistake with that one."

Remus shuttered as the scene replayed itself in his mind.

_The Muggle woman's eyes began to glow red, her voice suddenly sounding completely wrong for her petite, human body. And then air began to feel heavy, hot, like an invisible fire had suddenly erupted in their midst._

_Deep within him, the wolf whimpered in fear._

_All Remus could focus on were those red eyes, no longer glowing quite so vividly, but nevertheless looking as though they'd been forged within the depths of Hell itself. And then the face around them began to shift: skin darkening to blackened coal, glistening with scales, a strange symbol rising up from the skin on her forehead. Her hair lengthened and darkened as it cascaded down her back and in-between the sharp spear-like weapons that crossed her back. The Muggle clothes disintegrated, turning into a bizarre sort of red and black body armour, which seemed to meld into her skin._

_Remus was frozen in horror. His wolf had provided him with one, clear word: demon. _

_"W-what are you?!" he heard Bellatrix shriek. _

_"A knight to the Lady of Dagon," the demon answered. It watched Bellatrix for a few moments. _

_And then it moved._

_The movements were too fast for Remus to follow. The demon knight had disappeared from its spot and then reappeared directly in front of Bellatrix in less time than it took the werewolf to blink. The witch didn't even get the chance to scream as double-ended spears drove through her body and ripped it apart._

_The demon straightened and replaced her spears in one fluid motion. It stared down at Bellatrix's lifeless, torn-up body as it lay in a gruesome pile of flesh, blood and innards. Then it looked up at the remaining Death Eaters, all frozen in shock and horror._

_"Tell your Dark Lord, that I will not stand with him," it said in a voice that was quiet and yet, somehow, managed to reverberate through the air. "I have given my sword to another."_

After the demon had spoken, all Remus could remember was a sharp pain and then nothing. He must've passed out, he realized.

"I'm a bit fuzzy on the ending," he said. "What happened to the, uh, woman?"

Charlie snorted.

"Oh come on, Remus, I'm no dark arts expert, but I don't think it takes it takes much to figure out she wasn't just some Muggle woman. I think 'demon' would be a much better guess."

Remus sighed.

"Yes, you're right. I've never met a demon before, but the wolf knew as soon as she started transforming."

"Merlin, wish we'd been-" said one of the twins.

"-able to see it," finished the other. They were both looking at Remus with identically excited expressions.

"But we did catch the end, when she-"

"-disapparated in a blast of black flames!"

"It was really cool!"

"Do you suppose all demons are like that?"

"I rather hope not," Charlie interrupted them. "You _did_ see what she did to Bellatrix. Thanks, but I'd rather face an enraged Hungarian Horntail. Or Bellatrix herself, for that matter."

Remus nodded.

"Yes, I know what you mean," he said carefully, thinking about how to phrase his thoughts. "Somehow Bellatrix's insanity, while terrifying, wasn't quite as terrifying as the demon's calm brutality. It tore a human being apart as if she were nothing and then looked down on the- the remains as if they didn't matter. Bellatrix would've been laughing in triumph at the very least."

"At least we know the demon's not working for You-Know-Who," said Poppy.

"No, but Bellatrix did know her, or at least the Muggle version of her," said Remus. "She called her Angela..."

"What an interesting choice of name," said the healer.

"If I were a demon in disguise-"

"-that's what I'd call myself."

Remus smiled as he looked at the twins.

"Which reminds me," he said with a twinkle in his eye. "That Jack-o-lantern of yours was a rather interesting touch..."

The twins exchanged looks and shrugged.

"We were working on our new line of Halloween tricks-"

"-but then we had customers-"

"-and we didn't want to leave the products laying around-"

"-and then the Death Eaters attacked-"

"-and Fred here had one of the expanding Jack-o-lanterns in his pocket-"

"-the ones that are designed to be impervious to all spells-"

"-so I figured it would at least surprise them and give us something to hide behind for a little while-"

"-except that it worked-"

"-_bloody brilliantly_!" They finished the last line in unison, which Remus was rather glad about, since their speech tag was threatening to renew the headache he'd woken up with.

Beside him, Charlie rolled his eyes at his brothers.

"Well, it was quite impressive," said Remus. "And I am glad you two seem to have made it out of the battle with only minor wounds. What about the others?"

The Twin's faces fell at the question, which worried him, but it was Charlie who answered the question.

"Dad's at St. Mungos and, well, he's not doing too well. Mum and Ginny are with him, but the rest of us weren't allowed to stay. The hospital's packed after yesterday, which is why you and those two were taken here. Otherwise, um, Moody was here yesterday too, but he was gone this morning, so I figure he wasn't too bad off."

"I'm sorry to hear about your dad. I do hope he recovers quickly."

Charlie smiled sadly. "Thanks, we do too." He took a deep breath and pushed away from the windowsill. "Well, I'm glad to see you doing better. I think I'm going to go pay the House Elves a visit and see what I can get them to make me for lunch."

Remus smiled as he watched Charlie go and then shook his head in amusement as he listened to the Weasley Twins trying to convince Poppy to let them join their brother in his quest down to the depths of the Hogwarts kitchens. Naturally, they would've had better luck trying to convince Snape to perform Swan Lake in a red and gold tutu.

He reached beside him to get a drink of water, when he noticed the neatly wrapped package that was also sitting on the table, beside his wand. He'd completely forgotten about the books. He carefully picked up his wand (happy to note the potions were working and his arm didn't feel nearly as sore as it had when he'd woken up) and tapped the top of the package. Almost immediately, the string began to unravel and the paper unfolded to reveal the books he'd purchased.

If he had to stay in bed to heal, he may as well get some work done, he figured.

* * *

Severus glanced up as someone cleared their throat. Quite predictably, there was Lucius, standing rigidly straight and trying oh so very hard to look like he wasn't actually leaning against the doorframe at the entrance to the potions laboratory. He looked paler than Severus ever remembered seeing him, bar his return from Azkaban. His expression was carefully blank Severus couldn't help but notice how tightly the man gripped his cane.

"Have a seat, Lucius," he said, before he promptly returned to ignoring everything but the potion in front of him.

Carefully, he stirred the potion slowly, watching the light blue liquid for even the slightest change. Once the shuffling that was Lucius sitting down at the wooden table next to the door stopped, the room was completely silent. All that could be heard was the soothing bubbling of the potion.

And then it happened. Severus's nose caught a whiff of cinnamon, which meant the fairy wings were beginning to react with the other ingredients.

Not taking his eyes off the contents of his cauldron, he reached beside him with the hand not holding the silver spoon he was using to stir the potion and picked up the leaves he'd set aside earlier. He brought his hand up and waited. One... Two... Three... There! The potion was beginning to develop a hint of green. He dropped the leaves in and quickly stirred five times counter-clockwise and then ten times clockwise. Then he removed the spoon from the mixture and stood back.

The potion boiled on its own for a few moments. Severus had counted to twelve in his head when a slight green mist began to form just above the liquid, quickly turning into a sort of cloud. The cloud exploded moments later with a loud 'pop'.

Satisfied, Severus spelled the flames to a low intensity and left the potion to quietly simmer as he turned back to his guest.

"Lucius," he said, moving over to the cabinet on the far side of the room. "I'll admit to being rather surprised to see you here. You could've just sent a House Elf."

"You would've had an easier time ignoring a House Elf," said Lucius, his voice a bit raspier than usual. "Merlin knows it's difficult enough for _me_ to get your attention when you've got your nose buried in a complicated potion."

Severus refrained from rolling his eyes, instead grabbing a phial of potion out of the cabinet and walking over to place it on the table in front Lucius. The blond wizard barely hesitated before picking it up and popping the lid. He downed it with shaking hands.

Meanwhile, Severus summoned a House Elf and instructed it to bring tea. He sat down across from the blond wizard and eyed him critically. Regardless of his words, Lucius Malfoy did not walk all the way down to the dungeons just to pick up a potion.

Sure enough, after he'd handed back the empty phial with a grateful nod, Lucius made no move to leave.

Tea arrived and Severus poured. Both wizards purposefully ignored just how much the cup and saucer rattled as Lucius held it, although Severus noticed smugly that is wasn't as bad as it had been before the potion. Lucius took a sip of his tea and placed the cup back down.

"Angela was at the raid in Diagon Alley," Lucius finally said.

"That is a rather strange," Severus said with a frown.

"She killed Bellatrix."

Severus blinked. He looked down at his tea suspiciously before leaning down to sniff it. Smelling nothing unusual, he looked back to Lucius, who was scowling at him.

"So she's not a Muggle after all?" he asked the blond wizard.

"Not even human, apparently. According to young Flint, she morphed into some sort of red-eyed, black-scaled monster and tore Bellatrix apart with her bare hands."

Severus idly wondered just how much of that story was an exaggeration concocted by Flint to gain attention - the boy hadn't been out of school long enough to have completely changed since then.

"Then I suppose we should all be grateful she chose to do so after she'd disappeared-" He paused. "What of Draco and the Muggle girl?"

"The, uh, creature apparently said Draco was safe, but nothing else. Well, other than to say her _mistress_ had forbidden her to kill except in self-defence." Lucius paused for dramatic effect, making Severus raise an eyebrow at him. "She killed Bellatrix after she'd cast - and hit her - with an Avada Kadavra."

"Well, I suppose that is a strong case for self-defence," Severus stated dryly. Lucius glared at him for a few moments. Then his eyes became distant, hollow.

"It didn't even make her blink - the killing curse, I mean - Flint said she just kept standing there. That shouldn't even be possible. Harry Potter is the only other person to have ever survived the curse and he was left with a scar."

Severus frowned. "Potter survived because the curse rebounded off him, not because he is somehow immune to it."

Lucius nodded absently. He was trying to look neutral, as if the situation had almost nothing to do with him. But Severus had known the blond long enough to see the fear hidden in his eyes - a fear he couldn't voice, because his son had been branded a traitor to the cause.

Severus sighed.

"You realize that if this creature is truly as powerful and terrifying as Mr. Flint described it as, then it would have no reason to lie about Draco's safety." He heard Lucius take a shaky breath. "Which means he quite likely is, indeed, safe. Possibly safer than he had been here, even."

"Of course, you're absolutely right. I just wish I knew what it could possibly want with him..."

"I would imagine that has more to do with the mysterious Muggle girl he was guarding then with Draco himself." He paused to think. "Which reminds me, have you ever heard of a place called Sunnydale? It should be in America."

"Sunnydale?" Lucius thought for a few moments. "I believe it was a town in California: the site of some sort of magical catastrophe. The entire town just suddenly collapsed into a giant crater. The American Ministry of Magic didn't seem to know what had happened exactly. Why?"

"It's where that girl said she was from and the way she'd said it, she seemed to expect us to have heard of it. At the time I dismissed it as some sort of Muggle landmark with little actual significance."

"Hmm, did she now? Well, that's a start, I suppose. Perhaps the family library will have more information."

With that, Lucius began to slowly stand with the help of his silver snake-topped cane. Severus raised an eyebrow at his sudden - if limited - vigour. Lucius caught the look and smirked.

"You said yourself the girl seemed a bit odd. I have long since learned to trust your instincts and besides, if an ordinary-seeming Muggle servant girl can morph into an armoured demon, then Salazar only knows what the slightly odd Muggle girl could turn into. Perhaps, my son was merely following his superior Malfoy instincts when he befriended her."

Severus snorted. However, he couldn't help the small smile as he allowed the news to finally sink in: Draco was safe.

* * *

Dawn raised her eyebrows as she read the page in front of her. She glanced up at Draco, who was sitting across from her and still reading the book about hellmouths (well, technically demonic magic, but it had a good two chapters about hellmouths in it as well and that was the main thing).

"You get put into houses based on a reading of your personality traits done by a hat?" she asked him with a bit of a 'please tell me you're joking' tone in her voice.

Draco looked up and frowned. "The Sorting Hat, yes. Why?"

"It's a fashion accessory."

"It's magical."

"An old and probably out-of-style fashion accessory then."

"Must you denounce all traditions of the Wizarding World?"

"No, not all of them. Just the silly ones."

"I think I finally truly understand why Muggles are kept far away from the Wizarding World."

Dawn rolled her eyes and returned to her reading. She'd given up on trying to research the prophecy. Apparently, Wizards in general didn't take much stock in divinations and most of what Dawn had seen on the shelves had been about star gazing and palm reading and crystal balls. None of which were of any use to her. So, she'd gone with plan B: research the school, the Wizarding World and Voldemort.

Which is how she found herself reading through a surprisingly fascinating book entitled _Hogwarts: A History_. Plus, it helped that just reading it made her morning seem a lot more normal. She may not have found any talking candlesticks (although, she decided that if there were talking candlesticks then odds were they would probably not have French accents, which really would've just been horribly disappointing), but she did meet several talking portraits and discovered that the suits of armour were more than willing to give directions, providing all they needed to do was point.

Oh, and then there was the centaur. An actual, real, live centaur - named Firenze. Who taught divinations - and knew all about the entrance to the kitchens and the trick with the pear in the portrait that revealed said entrance. There, she'd finally met those mysterious House Elf creatures and discovered that 'um, I was wondering if I might be able to get something for breakfast', apparently translated to the Gollum-like creatures as 'oh please make me a feast with enough food to feed twenty starved slayers'.

So, why had her suggestion of vampire teachers seemed so strange to Draco?

Just then the library door opened. Dawn looked up as the three wizards they'd met yesterday walked in. They were quiet, all looking very serious and subdued. And worried. Apparently the attack had been bad - she could well imagine how much damage could be done with magic to a crowded shopping district - and if these kids were involved then their families likely were too...

"Good morning!" Dawn called out a greeting, ignoring Draco's pointed glare. "At least I think it's morning. Kinda hard to tell without anything resembling a clock around."

"Oh, there's a spell for that..." Hermione started, trailing off when she suddenly seemed to realize whom she was answering.

Dawn shot her a sarcastic look. "Which would be horribly helpful if I had a pointy magic stick of my own to use."

"Why don't you just ask the Ferret for help, then?" Harry practically growled at her. Dawn blinked in surprise, taken aback at the sudden hostility. Something really, really bad must've happened.

Dawn glanced at Draco, who was glaring at the three of them silently. He was holding his wand, although it wasn't actually pointed at anything in particular. The tension in the room was just about ready to crackle with static electricity. Dawn was deciding what she should do about defusing it, when the red head spoke up.

"I suppose you must be happy, Malfoy," he said, spitting out the name as if it contained a horrible venereal disease.

"Not particularly, since I apparently have no choice but to once again share a room with the likes of you," Draco sneered back.

"Do you not know how to play nice or are you just physically incapable of it?" Dawn asked. Draco blinked and raised an eyebrow at her.

"I have no idea what you're talking about, Muggle."

"I thought you were supposed to magically know things."

"I'm a wizard, not a seer!"

"I can't believe you can joke around after what happened yesterday?!" Harry suddenly exploded in anger. Dawn looked at him.

"Except that mind reading isn't one of my many talents, so until one of you three tell us what happened yesterday, we have no idea what happened, hence the ability to joke." She paused. "I mean, I remember the guy who ran in here said something about an attack and people being hurt, but that could mean anything from 'a couple shop windows blew up and several people had cuts and broken bones' to 'London is a giant crater and everyone's dead'."

"Um..." Harry seemed a bit shocked. "Well, London is still, uh, standing and all. I don't think Voldemort's quite that desperate yet."

"Hopefully, he never will be," added Hermione, eyes wide in horror.

"But a lot of people _are_ dead!" said Ron, seething mad. Dawn narrowed her eyes her eyes warily at the boy - he looked like he was looking for someone to take his anger out on.

"Someone you know was hurt," she said, not even bothering to phrase it as a question.

The red head blinked at her. Hermione placed a placating hand on his shoulder, a sign of support. She whispered something in his ear, which made him take a deep breath. She then looked at Dawn with sad eyes.

"His father was on lunch break and joined the fighting," she said. "He was badly hurt and is in the hospital."

Dawn gasped. Sometimes, she really hated being right.

"Oh goddess! I'm so sorry to hear that. I hope he pulls through."

"Uh, yeah, thanks," said Ron quietly, apparently quite confused by the sympathy he was receiving. Then he looked at something behind Dawn and his expression hardened.

Dawn glanced quickly over her shoulder at Draco. He was sitting silently, his expression carefully blank. Dawn had a feeling that wasn't going to last if he were provoked. And the red head looked like he was just raring to provoke.

"I'll bet you knew, didn't you, Malfoy?" Harry suddenly spat, throwing Dawn through all kinds of new hoops, because she just realized she'd been paying so much attention to the noisy-angry Ron, that she'd completely ignored the silently angry Harry.

Who, she now noticed, looked positively murderous.

"What in Merlin's name are you talking about, Potter?" Draco asked.

"You could've warned us about the attack, but you didn't and a lot of innocent people died, or got hurt! Mr. Weasley might die and it's your fault!"

Dawn stood up, angry.

"Harry, stop, you don't know that," Hermione said, leaving Ron and moving to Harry. "Remember, Dumbledore said You-Know-Who was always very secretive about his plans."

"As much as I detest agreeing with the Mudbl- I mean, Granger, here, she is right. I knew nothing about the raid. I was hardly on the Dark Lord's list of favourites."

"Liar!" Ron roared. "I'll bet you and your father are both getting a kick out of the fact that my father might die at any moment!"

He made to lunge forward, but suddenly there was Hermione standing in front of him with her wand drawn. Her eyes as fiery now as they'd been calm before.

"Ronald Weasley, if you do not calm down this second I will put you into a body bind until you do!" she declared. Dawn suddenly decided she really liked the girl.

The red head stopped in his tracks, eyes wide as he looked at his friend.

"You-you're taking _his_ side?" he asked quietly, betrayed.

"Of course I'm not," she said, exasperation evident in her voice. "But I think you're giving him too much credit if you honestly believe he had anything to do with the raid or your father."

"He must've known Voldemort was up to something," Harry interrupted venomously.

Dawn glanced at Draco in time to see him rolling his eyes.

"The Dark Lord's a Slytherin, Potter, he's always scheming something," he sneered. "That's not exactly a clue to anything."

Voldemort was a Slytherin when he was in school? This was news to Dawn, who quickly filed the information for later thought. It potentially made her reasons for staying in the school for now more pertinent.

"So, as a Slytherin that means you are too, right?" Harry took a few steps closer to Draco, who finally stood up, his wand in hand, not quite pointing at Harry, but not too far off either.

"Naturally. I'd be a bit slow if I wasn't. I'm not exactly in friendly territory at the moment, am I?" Anger was starting to show through in Draco's eyes and in his voice.

"And whose fault is that, I wonder?"

Draco silently glared at Harry, clenching his jaw and grinding his teeth together.

"What is it, Malfoy?" Ron called, mockingly. "Nothing to say to that, do you?"

"Harry, Ron, stop it!" said Hermione firmly, her wand still pointed at Ron. "You're not helping the situation at all, either of you."

"Yes, do listen to the Mudblood, I-"

"Don't call her that!" Harry screamed so suddenly that even Dawn was startled for long enough for the boy to rush over to Draco at hit him squarely on the nose.

Draco stumbled backwards from the impact and then tripped over the back of his chair, which sent both him and said chair clattering to the ground. Harry advanced further towards him, but by then Dawn was moving. She grabbed his wrist as he was beginning to pull his hand back again and twisted it behind his back with her right hand, while her left shoved into his left shoulder blade. Harry cried out at the unexpected pain as Dawn then shoved him up against the table she and Draco had been using.

Harry tried struggling, but Dawn tightened her hold and twisted his arm even further back. He hissed in pain.

"Right," she began, "so if everyone could just calm down, I think I'd prefer settling this the slightly more rational and civilized way that doesn't resemble the way rabid vampires solve things."

The library was silent. Apparently, no one had expected her involvement. Or maybe they hadn't expected the hand-to-hand combat skills. She resisted smirking and instead looked down and met Harry's eye.

"You calm?" she asked.

"Yes," he answered quietly through gritted teeth, glaring at her all the while.

"And you, like, totally look it too," she said sarcastically, but let go of him anyway, before stepping back. Red-faced, Harry never stopped glaring at her as he stood up and stretched his arm out, wincing slightly at the movement.

"So, first off, let set things straight: Draco," she looked directly at blond, wincing herself as she noticed the blood flowing down Draco's face for the first time, "did you know Voldemort was planning to attack the shopping district place?"

"No," he answered sullenly, "I didn't."

"Did you know there was going to be an attack at all today?"

"No."

"'Kay, that's one problem solved." Now she turned to the other group of wizards. "Now, what did the doctors say about your father, exactly? Did they say he was dieing, or that he was in a bad way?"

Ron blinked at her, as if he'd only understood half of what she'd just said.

"No, they didn't say he was dieing," Hermione answered, half looking at Dawn, half at Ron. "They said he wasn't doing very well and the curse was bad, but they didn't say they couldn't cure him. Only that it was going to be tricky."

Ron was looking at Hermione and nodded, calming down considerably.

"Alright, I get it," he sighed. "He's not dead yet and there's a good chance he won't be, so I should stop panicking."

"Yup, that's the gist of it," Dawn confirmed with a smile. "You've just gotta believe that the doctors know what they're doing and that he's strong enough to fight through it."

Deciding her work was done, she turned to Draco.

"Speaking of doctors, I'm assuming you have a nurse or something in this school, so we're going to go see her and get Draco's nose looked at."

Draco didn't say a word as she ushered him out of the library. In fact, they almost made it all the way to the stairs before he started whining.

* * *

Idly, the Dark Lord Voldemort wondered whether the huge building he was standing in used to house dragons. It certainly didn't look like it had been used at any point during the past four centuries, since the Ministry of Magic had made it illegal to privately own them. And the stone was re-enforced with anti-flammable charms.

The building stood on the farthest point of the Malfoy estate, partially hidden away by a circle of massive oaks. It was quite possibly the least ornamental structure on the lands, its only embellishments being two life-size dragons carved into the stone on either side of the massive entrance and the Malfoy family crest carved and then painted onto the door itself. There was a small pond nearby, with some very large, odd-looking red and blue fish that really resembled small sharks rather than any ornamental fish Voldemort had ever seen.

There was also a tall, wooden stake jutting out of the ground several feet away from the building. The half-rotten remains of a thick rope would around the stake made Voldemort pause slightly and raise an eyebrow, wondering exactly what the Malfoys of centuries past had done for entertainment.

Inside, the structure itself had been empty. Not grimy - in use or not, the Malfoy House Elves knew better than to leave any part of the estate untouched - but even so, it had that sad, desolate feeling buildings tended to acquire after a long period of abandonment.

Needless to say, it suited his purposes perfectly.

A satisfied - and thoroughly terrifying - grin twisted upon the Dark Lord's lips as he surveyed the inside of the building. His plans were finally coming together. Diagon Alley had just been a ploy, a spectacle, to divert the attention of the Ministry away from Muggle England. To give the rest of his Death Eaters a chance to act quickly and effectively.

Bellatrix's death was a painful blow. However, even that would work to his advantage. After all, she had been one of his strongest, and most creative, supporters and her death would be undoubtedly be heralded as a crippling blow against him. The Ministry would use it to tell the Wizarding populace they were 'that much' closer to beating him, neatly taking the credit for a chance encounter they had nothing to do with. The fools. They probably hadn't even realized what had happened while they were busy defending their precious shopping district.

Once more he looked over the room. It was no longer empty. The floor was covered in death. Muggles, Mudbloods, any humans that had come into their grasp. Not from any one place, no, that was the beauty of it all; they'd been taken down and portkeyed to the Malfoy estate from all across the country. There were also about a dozen or so from his supporters in America, who'd promised more to come later today. Most of them were freshly dead, but a few had been dug up, their graves desecrated simply because they looked more terrifying when they were half decayed.

Heavy charms had been placed around the room, to keep bugs out and prevent the smell from spreading.

The Dark Lord's smile slowly disappeared and his expression became serious again. It was not enough yet, he would need more still. After all, once he had gained the power, these piles of sprawled, lifeless limbs would become his army.

He turned and began to make his way towards the Manor.

* * *

Remus put down the book he'd been reading, placing it on his lap with a tired sigh. He rubbed his eyes, hoping to rub some life into them. Or at least to make the words stop blurring into one another on the page. He began stretching his back and winced when his still-healing ribs protested the movement with a sharp pain.

Just then he heard the door to the medical wing open and frowned. He didn't think Madame Pomfrey would be back so soon. And neither did the Weasley twins, apparently, since they still hadn't come back from where ever it was they had snuck out to mere minutes after the healer had left to gather some fresh potions.

Madame Pomfrey had forbidden the twins from getting out of bed despite their most ardent protests and whines. But shortly after she'd left, Fred had snuck out of his bed (Remus could tell them apart by smell during the times when the wolf was stronger) and cheerily offered to do up the curtain around his bed so that he wouldn't be distracted by them during his reading.

Remus hadn't been fooled for a second, but agreed to it with a smile anyway. Of course, as a result, he now couldn't actually see who'd entered the medical wing.

"Hello? Is there anyone here?" a female voice called out. Remus blinked. Not only did he not recognize the voice, it was American.

"You do realize that even if there were someone here, they wouldn't help me anyway," said a second voice.

Remus's voice froze in his throat just as he had been about to call back. His eyes widened. Now that voice he recognized, despite being rougher, more mature than the last time he'd heard it.

"And you realize that just 'cause you're a prejudicial snob, doesn't mean everyone else is, right?" the girl answered. "You said she was a healer. And all healers, doctors and whatever have to take the Hippocratic oath, which means she's pretty much duty bound to help and heal whoever comes to her."

"Maybe in the Muggle world."

Oh yes, thought Remus, that sneer was definitely Draco Malfoy.

"Whatever. Looks like she's not here anyway. Just sit down and I'll go see if I can find a first aid kit or something."

Remus heard footsteps approach his bed, pass it and then move on towards Poppy's office. The door to the healer's office open and closed. And then, from the other side of the room, he heard a sigh and then a slight creak as someone sat down on one of the beds. Carefully, so as to not draw any attention to himself, Remus lifted his uninjured arm and parted the curtains just enough for him to be able to peek out.

Sure enough, sitting on one of the far beds, was Draco Malfoy. Although, Remus couldn't help but notice that the boy sitting dejectedly on the bed looked a far cry from the snotty, selfish brat he'd once taught - and not just because of the blood streaming down from his nose. It was his eyes. The slightly haunted look in them seemed to speak of a lost innocence, the sadness within their depths of a different sort of loss. Remus knew the look well. The boy was mourning.

Of course, this realization still did not explain what on earth he was doing here, inside the Hogwarts infirmary.

The office door open and closed again.

"Okay, for the record, I have seen a lot of strange shit in my time, but talking mirrors? Waaay creepy. Which reminds me, Mr. Tall, Dark and Broody, who stopped by that time to tell you about the raid you were going to be in on, did he happen to teach here or go to school here or something?"

There was a slight pause.

"Yes, Severus taught potions and was the Head of Slytherin House. Why?"

"'Cause I could swear the mirror in the girl's bathroom has his voice."

Remus nearly fell off his bed.

"Wh-what, but tha-that's..." Draco sputtered for a bit before groaning. "Pansy. It was probably Pansy."

The girl laughed and then began to set the supplies she'd gotten onto the table beside the bed Draco was sitting on. Remus couldn't quite see her properly since her back was to him, but he could tell she was tall and slim with long, brown hair. Her clothes were definitely muggle: denim jeans and a green tank top.

"Now, just to warn you, I seriously didn't recognize half the stuff in that office, so I'm kinda trusting you here to make sure I don't give you something that's going to kill you or turn you into a purple, polka-dotted frog."

Draco took one of the phials she'd brought and read the label. He put it down and then took the other one. This one he unstopped in a fluid motion and downed it in one gulp. The girl took the phial from him and then fished a cloth out from the bowl of water she'd also brought, wringing it out.

"Here, I think the bleeding's mostly stopped now, so let's get you cleaned up."

"You know, there is a spell for that."

"Which, unfortunately for you, I don't know. Besides, I can't really see how being this dependent on magic can be healthy."

"As if a Muggle would know anything about magic or how it can be used." Despite his attempt at haughtiness, Draco surprised Remus by allowing the girl to start dabbing at his face with the wet cloth, starting with his chin.

"Uh, I'm sorry, but moving stairs? Which drunk genius invented those?! I mean, it's not even like they save you the effort of walking up them or anything like the non-magic ones do. They're not useful at all, just annoying."

"Ow! Be careful!" Draco complained as her dabbing got closer to his nose.

"Stop being such a baby. Most of the girls I know hit harder than Four-Eyes did."

"Which only proves that your breeding is as abysmal as his."

"Excuse me, but I'm a human being, not a horse and I don't think you even want to get me started on what I think of your breeding stock... well, half of it anyway."

Silence stretched through the medical wing, interrupted by a few hisses from Draco as the girl was finally dabbing at his nose. One thought passed through Remus's mind: Sirius would've loved this girl. And been completely infuriated by her, since she'd likely not co-operate and allow herself to be easily seduced. He was about to let the curtains fall close again and attempt some more reading, when Draco started speaking again.

"He-he's not usually like that, you know," the blond said quietly. His fists were clenched and even from where he was sitting, Remus could tell his eyes were unfocused and staring into the distance. The werewolf frowned. "I mean, he's never done anything like that before.."

The girl, being done with cleaning his face, put the cloth back into the bowl and let it float there. She dried her hands on her jeans and sat down on the bed next to Draco. Finally, Remus got a look at her and was rather surprised to realize she didn't look much older than the blond wizard, if at all.

"I'm sorry," she said softly. "I suppose he was kinda drunk off his ass, plus stress from entertaining Evil Dark Lord What's-his-mort in his own home and he'd just watched his wife... well, you know."

Draco nodded. He was trembling slightly and, to Remus, it looked as though he were trying to hold back tears. He took a deep breath.

"She didn't have to - I could've saved her, stopped it from happening," he said quietly, staring at the ground as though he wasn't even aware he was talking. "It's just a simple spell after all, two words that's all. They were only Muggles, not important at all and then she wouldn't have had to... But they were children and they looked so frightened and-"

"Draco Malfoy, you stop that right now!"

The muggle girl had stood up abruptly and put her hands on her hips. Draco's head snapped up to stare at her.

"Your mother knew what was going to happen to her. She'd accepted it, the price she'd have to pay to keep you safe. To give you a second change that wouldn't involve killing or torturing or you ending up dead. I won't pretend to understand how the whole thing worked, but I do know that she didn't want you to sit here and brood because you're feeling guilty that you _didn't_ kill someone."

Draco was still staring at her, but now he looked slightly thoughtful.

"I almost did, you know," he finally said. "I mean, I didn't want to. There were two of them, brothers, I think. One of them was hiding behind the other, but they were both looking so terrified of me and I couldn't help thinking how much they reminded me of the first years. But I remembered my mother and I knew I couldn't bear to- to let her die. And then there was this wind, no, a breeze. It smelt of roses. And I felt like it was whispering to me, telling me everything was going to be alright."

There were a few moments of silence.

"It lied."

The girl leaned forward and hugged the boy. After a few moments she let go and stepped back from him.

"I know this sounds horribly cliché and pointless, but it really will get better," she said. "Or at least it won't feel like you're going to break into a million pieces every time you think about it."

"And I'm sure I'll have a lot of time to think about it once Potter's friends get their act together and finally decide to cart me off to Azkaban."

"Azkaban?"

"Wizarding prison." He clutched his left forearm. "Having the Dark Mark is an automatic sentence."

"I won't let them."

Draco chuckled bitterly. "And what, exactly, are you going to do about it, Muggle? Ask them nicely?"

"I think you're forgetting about the hidden ace up our sleeves, Dragonboy - well, my sleeve, technically speaking."

"An ace, which has apparently abandoned us."

"Hmm, not exactly, more like waiting on the sidelines 'till we need her."

"You mean, you hope she is."

"Well, that too. Although, she said this morning she would come if I called her and I kinda think I believe her."

"You've seen her again?"

"Um, yeah, wasn't she in the Common Room this morning when you came out?"

"No, she wasn't."

"Oh. She was there when I came out and we talked."

The more Remus listened to the two talk, the more he ached to get up, walk up to them, sit them down and then command them - with Veritaserum if necessary - to tell him their entire story from start to finish. Perhaps Mad-Eye would allow him to sit in on their interrogation, since there was sure to be one once things calmed down.

Just then the girl stood up and stretched, her tank top riding up above her waistline as she did so. Remus's eyes narrowed at the scars he glimpsed there.

"Anyway, don't know about you, but I think I want a snack. Got anything to recommend?"

Draco stood and took a deep breath as he straightened himself. The constant almost-sneer was back on his face.

"The elves do a pretty good raspberry tart."

"God, are you trying to fatten me up or something? 'Cause you know it's only supposed to be evil hags that do that."

"Shows how much you know, Muggle."

Remus shook his head with amusement as they walked out the door. Well, that had certainly been more entertaining than his vampire texts. He let the curtain drop and looked back to the tome spread out on his lap. He grimaced, not at all looking forward to going back to it. He looked at the stack of books on his bedside table and found his eyes inexplicitly drawn to the smallest of them - the Muggle one he'd impulsively bought.

Feeling like he was throwing all logic to the wind, he marked his place in the tome he'd been reading and set it aside. Then he picked up the Muggle book and looked it over again, before opening it to the first page. It was a dedication. He read it and suddenly, the world stopped. It was with wide eyes that he read it again:

_We dedicate this book to Anya and Spike. You entered as villains and exited as heroes. The world may never know what you did, but we do. You will be remembered always and sorely missed. _

Spike. The authors of this book about vampires knew someone named Spike. Although, they seemed to think he was dead... but Remus wasn't sure he believed in coincidences anymore. And a vampire _was_ technically dead, right? His hands shook slightly as he turned the page and began to read.

* * *

As Dawn and Draco were rounding the corner on their way from the hospital wing, they nearly collided with two people, who were also rounding the corner, only from the opposite direction.

"Oh, sorry," said Dawn automatically, before she'd had a chance to properly look at the boys. They were tall and thin with red hair - and were completely identical. And they were both looking at her with surprised curiosity. She blinked at them. "Um, I didn't just hit my head back there, did I? There are supposed to be two of you, right?"

They grinned and then shook their heads (in opposite directions).

"Nah, that's just your eyes-" said one.

"-there's only one person here," finished the other.

Dawn rolled her eyes.

"And that would've been so much more effective if you both said it at the same time instead of taking turns."

They looked at each other and then back to her.

"I can do that," they said in unison.

"Sorry, too late," Dawn grinned back.

"Are you planning on making friends with every Gryffindor you meet?" Draco cut in with an angry scowl.

"Jealous, Dragon-boy?" she asked with a playful wink in his direction.

"Wha-" Draco sputtered in surprise, before his scowl returned, although it was annoyed more than angry now. "No, of course not, Muggle. I would merely like to delay the inevitable interrogation session for as long as possible. Personally, I don't particularly like Veritaserum."

"Veritaserum?" Dawn paused. "Wait, don't tell me, I think I can figure this one out myself. Veritas is Latin for 'truth' and a serum is - oh, a truth potion! It's a truth potion!"

She looked to Draco, who nodded. Dawn grinned triumphantly.

"Hang on," one of the twins interrupted her mental celebrating. She couldn't help notice how they were both eyeing Draco suspiciously.

"You're a Muggle?" asked the other one.

"Why are you here-"

"-at Hogwarts?"

"I was a prisoner at DLV's horror mansion and Draco, here, helped me escape. We used a thingy-key to get out and now we're here."

"DLV's-"

"-horror mansion?"

Both red heads had identical looks of confusion. Beside her, Draco sighed.

"There are more than enough names for the Dark Lord, so why do you feel like you have to make up more?"

"Because it annoys you."

"There they are!" a voice suddenly yelled from the end of the corridor, making Dawn jump slightly in surprise.

The twins turned around. Dawn had to look around them to see the group approaching. Unsurprisingly, the three wizards they'd already met - Harry, Ron and Hermione - were all there, along with the older red head, who had come to the library last night and told them about the raid, and two others Dawn didn't recognize. One of them was a pretty young woman with short, spiky, bright green hair and the other was an older man, who just looked stranger and stranger the closer he got to them. First of all, one of his eyes was clearly fake and kept spinning around in circles (Dawn wondered if he could actually see anything out of it), secondly he had a wooden leg and thirdly, well, he just looked plain weird. Both of them were wearing red robes that were similarly cut and seemed more official than what any of the other wizards were wearing.

Dawn glanced at Draco. He was paler than usual and was holding himself rigidly. Whoever these newcomers were, he recognized them and was terrified. She wondered if maybe they were police. Or possibly military.

Either way, this was probably going to be her chance to either finally get a message to Buffy and Giles or find out just how much of what Azazella had said was true.

"Ronnikins!" one of the twins called out gleefully.

"And Harry and Hermione!"

"You came to visit us-"

"-how sweet!"

The older red head frowned sternly at the two of them.

"Aren't you two supposed to be in bed?" he asked.

"Ummm, maybe-" They looked a bit shifty-eyed for a moment.

"-Madame Pomfrey might've changed her mind."

"Of course, that's why she was threatening to bind you to your beds."

"Draco Malfoy," the gruff-looking older man said loudly, his wand out and pointed at Draco, "you are under arrest by order of the Ministry of Magic for aiding Death Eaters, suspicion of being a Death Eater and as an accomplice in the death of Albus Dumbledore."

Draco took a shaky breath and Dawn wondered if there was any way out of this without calling on Azazella. She counted backwards from five to one and then put on her best 'game face' - the one she'd learned from Buffy.

"You have a warrant, of course," she spoke up, surprising all the wizards, "and a badge or something to prove you actually have the authority to go around arresting people. Right?"

"That's Alistair Mad-Eye Moody," Draco whispered to her from behind gritted teeth, "he's one of the top aurors in the ministry, of course he's got the authority to arrest people."

"Oh." It figured the guy was famous; he certainly looked like a veteran of something.

"And who might you be, girl?" Moody demanded.

"My name's Dawn Summers." Dawn folded her arms across her chest.

"She's a Muggle," Harry supplied. "She, uh, arrived with Malfoy. Says she was a prisoner at Malfoy Manor and he helped her escape."

"A Malfoy rescuing a Muggle?" said the green-head, an astonished look on her face. "Wow. Can't wait to tell me mum about that, she'll practically die laughing, I'll bet."

"A Muggle?!" Moody narrowed his real eye and his fake one suddenly stopped spinning and seemed to focus entirely on Dawn. "She don't exactly look like a Muggle. Not a witch for sure, but there's something about her..."

Dawn froze. Could this man read auras? Willow had once said her aura didn't look magical, so much as it did 'not unmagical'. And 'not unmagical' was enough to make someone suspicious - what if the wizards knew about the Key? She would not let herself be used as a weapon in some demented school rivalry war! She decided to take a gamble on the one piece of information everyone already knew.

"Uh, maybe it's 'cause I'm from Sunnydale, California," she said carefully.

Instead of looking confused, the veteran auror's eyes widened and he took a step backwards, away from Dawn.

"What? Sunnydale?! Yer from the hellmouth?" he cried. Dawn blinked in surprise.

"Hang on, you _know_ about the hellmouth?!"

"Oi, 'Mione, what's a hellmouth?" someone asked. Dawn thought it sounded like Ron.

"I'm not sure," Hermione answered. "I don't think I've ever read about it..."

"It's exactly what it sounds like," Dawn began explaining. Everyone turned to her - although Moody's wand never strayed from where it was still trained on Draco. "It's an entrance to Hell. We had one in our school basement."

The corridor was deathly silent.

"Well, she's got us beat," one of the twins suddenly announced. The other one nodded in agreement.

"Yup, we thought Hogwarts was brill what with the evil Chamber of Secrets-"

"-but even with the insane basilisk-"

"-we still can't beat a personal door to Hell."

Auror Moody looked like he was counting backwards from ten to one.

"How is it that a Muggle would even know about the hellmouth?" the green-haired girl suddenly asked.

Dawn thought fast. She needed them to believe her, because a truth potion was something she definitely wanted to avoid at all costs. She didn't think Draco had been joking when he'd mentioned it.

"When the cute guy your friend introduces you to suddenly goes all fanged and yellow glowy-eyed, tries to go for your neck and then explodes into a pile of dust when he falls on top of your H2 pencil, then believe me, you grow a clue real quick."

There were a few seconds of silence and then Ms. Green piped up again, looking completely amazed.

"You were attacked by a vampire and killed him with a pencil?!" she exclaimed.

"You understood that?!" asked Harry, looking equally astonished.

"Is that what she said?" asked Ron.

"The American Ministry must be doing a horribly shoddy job of it if the Muggles all know about magical creatures," the oldest redhead commented.

"Oh no, not all of us," Dawn quickly corrected, "Just, um, some of us. You know, the ones who've noticed."

She cringed. That sounded horrible.

"Still, the point is that no one should notice," said Ms. Green.

"And those, who do are dealt with," added Moody.

"I'm sorry, but what exactly do you mean by 'dealt with'?" Dawn asked with narrowed eyes. She didn't like the sound of that.

"Don't worry," said Hermione with a friendly smile, "we're not going to do anything to hurt you."

Dawn hated the sound of that even more. Beside her, Draco cursed quietly under his breath and suddenly Dawn had the sinking feeling that getting out of this without giving Azazella away was just not going to happen.

"Um, Dawn, so Harry here said you were wanting to contact your sister," Ms. Green asked casually. "Does that mean she's in England?"

"She was in Italy when I was abducted," Dawn answered slowly. "But once she found out I was missing, she probably hopped on the first flight to London, like asap."

"Oh, that's good. What's her name?"

"Buffy. Buffy Summers." There was no recognition of the name and Dawn felt a slight pang of victory at the thought that there was something she knew more about than the magical police squad. Even if it hardly helped her at the moment.

Ms. Green walked up to stand beside Moody and brought her wand up, pointing it at Dawn. Dawn's body tensed as she automatically shifted her legs further apart and balanced on the balls of her feet.

"What are you going to do, arrest me too?" she demanded.

"Don't be stupid," Draco hissed. "You're a Muggle, they're going to obliviate you!"

Dawn frowned. Obliviate? As in...

"They're going to erase your memories of the Wizarding World!"

"Boy, you realize that breaking even more laws in front of Ministry aurors is not going to help you," Moody snapped.

"Erase my memories?!" Dawn asked, her voice calm, collected and betraying every inch of fury she was feeling. She glared at them. "I thought you were supposed to be the good guys."

"We are!" Harry yelled. "Which more than we can say for you, considering you're conspiring with Malfoy of all people!"

"This is bloody ridiculous!" Moody growled. "Tonks!"

"Right, sorry." Ms. Green looked a bit sheepish for a moment and then her grip on her wand tightened. "Sorry," she told Dawn. "Obliviate!"

Dawn knew when she was beat. She moved as soon as the woman began her incantation, shoving herself bodily into Draco, which sent both of them tumbling to the floor - and temporarily out of the line of wand fire.

"Azazella!" Dawn screamed.

Black flames erupted between Dawn and the wizards in a flash of searing dark light. There were several surprised shouts and someone screamed. Then the flames were gone and in their place stood the proud demon warrior, dark locks glistening in the torchlight and red eyes gazing upon the wizards before her. She really wasn't any taller than the humans around her, yet her presence dominated the enclosed space, filling it so completely that no one dared look elsewhere.

"Lady Dawn," she said, not taking her eyes off the wizards in front of her, "you have called for me."

Dawn let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding or even had time to hold. She scrambled to her feet, before helping Draco up.

"Yup, I'm right here," she said, although she was sure Azazella knew her location without her saying anything at all.

Dawn didn't let go of Draco's hand and went to stand just behind the demon. She looked at the wizards, feeling a malicious sort of satisfaction at their horrified faces. She dared them to try and erase her memories now.

"Would you like me to take you to London?" Azazella broke the silence.

"No, just back to the Slytherin Common Room, please," Dawn answered and hesitantly brought a hand up to grasp Azazella's bicep.

"What?" Draco hissed into her ear. "Are you insane, Muggle?"

"I'll explain later," Dawn hissed back.

And then the three of them were once again engulfed in black flames.

Which was a shame, because Dawn would've likely enjoyed watching the chaos their departure caused amongst the wizards, who would then spend the rest of the evening and into the night desperately trying to break into the Slytherin Common Room. However, even with re-enforcements from the Order of the Phoenix, they were no match for the wards created with the now-mostly returned strength of an Old One.

* * *

Author's Notes:

**Bennu - **So many people commented on this line in the previous chapter, but no one got it quite right. At least not from the angle I was aiming at. My knowledge comes from the internet, mostly thanks to a rather neat little website called _Ancient Egypt: the Mythology_. .

**Marduk** - Again, my knowledge comes from the internet. I searched and searched, but couldn't find the site I'd originally gotten the human creation myth from (yes, I realize I'm an idiot for not saving the link the first time 'round), but I found a similar, if shorter, version of it. .

**Mystery Potion **- Whatever it is that Severus is working on is my own creation and I have no idea how accurate any of my descriptions are. Therefore, I have no idea what fairy wings smell like when they dissolve. Just thought I'd make that clear. =P

**Mirror in Slytherin girl's dorm bathroom** - I don't think Harry and co. have ever had reason to venture into that particular part of Hogwarts (I would love to hear them coming up with a valid excuse as to what they were doing there, though, lol), therefore I have no idea what the mirror there sounds like. I'm just assuming it talks and that, with the help of some complicated charms could be made to imitate other people's voices. As to why Pansy did it... well, there's a story you'll never get to hear. Feel free to make one up.


	18. Chapter 17

Uh, sorry for how long it took to get this chapter out everyone! There's one part in particular that took me forever to get right - as I've probably mentioned before, my entire experience of England is Heathrow airport. My thanks to my betas **Gwen** and **Biblios**, whose input was invaluable - it always is, but this time especially. =D

Enjoy!

**Disclaimer**: All I own is a computer, the prophecy and a few minor OCs.

**Warnings**: Don't know if it needs saying, but this chapter is where the fic becomes blatantly AU to _Deathly Hallows_ and not just because it's a crossover. More explanations follow in the Author's Notes at the end.

* * *

**Prophecy of the Four**

**Chapter 17 - Clashes**

Bill Weasley and his wife hadn't been home from their honeymoon two hours, when they received a floo-call from Charlie asking Bill for help. Bill groaned and was in the middle of asking if they were absolutely, positively sure this wasn't something that could wait until the morning, when two words caught his attention: 'demon' and 'wards'. He then decided to pay attention to his younger brother and began to also catch the words 'Hogwarts', 'impenetrable', 'Mad-Eye stumped' and 'never seen before'. By the time Charlie was done with his little tale, Bill realized he was far too intrigued to go to bed anyway.

His brother's disembodied head grinned happily at him from the blue-ish flames. Bill glared back, before getting up off the couch to go tell Fleur he would be leaving.

The demonic warding was everything Charlie had advertised it to be and more. It was completely unlike anything Bill had ever worked with before. The magic was more Goblin-like than Wizard-like, except darker, but not like dark magic at all. Dark magic always felt twisted to him, like a sullied version of regular magic. But not this - this just felt dark, like a pitch black night without a single star. Natural darkness. It was powerful, but clearly the demon, who'd wielded it, had some degree of casting skill, because it wasn't merely raw power. As soon as Bill cast his first diagnostic and mapping charms (starting with low-level ones, of course), he began to see the pattern of the wards and couldn't help but wonder at the complexity of the weave. And yet, his instincts told him the entire complex structure wasn't really as complex as it seemed. He merely needed to figure out how and where to begin unraveling...

He didn't even bother pretending he wasn't enjoying himself.

The rest of the Order members stood by and watched as Bill worked, quietly discussing the situation amongst themselves. The children had already been sent to bed and Madame Pomfrey had come down and dragged the twins away in full body binds.

"I suppose you've already thought of this, but I feel I should point it out anyway," Charlie commented as he watched his brother work. "If they can apparate within Hogwarts, they can probably also apparate out of it. So how do we know they're still in there?"

Moody shot him an annoyed look.

"Why bother putting up such an elaborate ward if you're going to just leave?" he answered. "I highly doubt they can leave from behind that anyway."

"Yeah, 'sides, you heard her," Tonks piped up. "Dawn there said she didn't want to leave just yet. Asked to be taken to the Slyth common room."

Charlie shrugged.

"Still, certainly didn't expect to be seeing that demon again so soon," he said. Then he shivered. "Definitely more terrifying up close. It felt like staring an intelligent Hungarian Horntail in the eyes. And an intelligent Hungarian Horntail is just about the scariest thing I can imagine short of You-Know-Who himself."

"I'm glad I wasn't there to see it duel Bellatrix," said Tonks.

"Wasn't really much of a duel," Charlie answered. He took a deep breath and shook his head. "So, what exactly are we doing with them when we get through, anyway?"

"I've sent an owl to the Minister of Magic and Kingsley's busy going through the ministry's demon section looking for a spell or ritual to subdue the demon," said Mad-Eye Moody, his eye spinning wildly as it focused solely on the entrance to the Slytherin Common Room. "Woke up Maxwell Oglvie, the Ministry's demon expert to help. There are aurors outside the castle, strengthening the anti-apparition wards and a pair guarding the front doors."

"Without the demon, the other two are harmless," Tonks added.

"Well, as harmless as a junior death eater and a Muggle can be," said Charlie. There was something about that girl, there had to be - ordinary Muggles did not have demon servants, he was sure of it. And there'd been this look in her eyes...

"Well, harmless or not, they'll slip right through our fingers if we're exhausted and they're fresh an' rested," Moody announced. "Tonks, go get the others organized into sleep shifts and then get some rest yourself. You can transfigure some desks in the potion's classroom and relieve me in three hours."

"Alright," said Tonks.

The auror's words seemed to be just the prompt Charlie's body needed to loudly remind him that he too was working on minimal reserves of sleep.

"Well, if it's all the same to you, I think I'll go lay down in the infirmary for a few hours," he said.

Moody nodded and then turned his attention back to Bill. Charlie took that as a dismissal and joined Tonks as she made her way out of the dungeons.

* * *

Draco yawned widely and then blinked blearily at his surroundings, realizing he must've fallen asleep, because the pile of books on the table in front of him looked bigger than he remembered it. Across the table, sat Dawn, her attention completely focused on the book she was skimming through. She looked bored, but mostly awake.

"I take it they haven't broken through the wards yet," Draco commented as he attempted to shake off the last bits of sleep.

"Nope," Dawn answered without looking up.

Draco snickered.

"I'd love to see the look on their faces when they finally do break through and realize we're not anywhere inside Slytherin House." Then he paused, wondering. "Are they even going to be able to break through the demon magic?"

"Eventually," came the answer from the front of the room. Draco looked over and then blinked in surprise when, instead of the black-scaled demon, Angela sat on top of Madame Pince's desk, her left leg dangling off the edge while her right was bent and being used as an armrest for her right arm. She was practically motionless as she stared off to the side, at nothing in particular. Only her lips moved as she spoke. "They seem to have found themselves a skilled magic weaver. I weaved my spell quickly, therefore it isn't very complex. He will unravel it, given time."

"Why do you look human now?" Draco said, before he realized what he was saying.

Angela's eyes snapped to attention and focused on him. He gulped as she stared at him, as though analyzing a particularly strange insect.

"I have held this human appearance for centuries. It is easier for me to maintain it whilst monitoring the wards." She cocked her head. "Do you prefer my other form? It would be no trouble for me to change-"

"No! I-I mean, it's fine, really. You don't have to change. I was just wondering."

Angela nodded in acknowledgment and Draco could feel his face heating up as he recognized the sparkle in her eyes as amusement. The corners of her lips twitched. Draco looked away.

"You know, I'm kinda surprised they haven't done a locating charm to make sure we're actually in Slytherin House before they go to all the trouble of breaking demon magic," Dawn commented into the ensuing silence as she put the book she'd just finished with onto the ever-growing discard pile.

Draco frowned at her.

"How exactly are you still awake enough to make logical comments?" he asked.

"Lots and lots of practice."

She picked up another book and opened it. _The Legends of Hogwarts_, read the title. Draco frowned. He skimmed the titles of the other books; they were all about Hogwarts, the Hogwarts Founders and the first war against the Dark Lord.

"You look like you're looking for something specific," he commented. Dawn made a non-committal noise and Draco suppressed a twinge of hurt.

"You know, I've been wondering for a while," he drawled, leaning back casually in his chair. "Even for a not-quite-Muggle, who lived on a Hellmouth, you seem to know an awful lot about magic. Vampires, demons and werewolves are magical creatures, but they don't necessarily use magic. And you clearly know about how magic is used."

Dawn looked up at him and raised an amused eyebrow.

"I said I knew nothing about this Wizarding World of yours, not that I know nothing about magic. I've studied about magic and magical rituals and charms and stuff for a couple years now. I've even done a few magic spells and have totally seen other people use magic before I got zapped to Wizard of Oz Land. It's just that none of them required a wand." She paused. "Well, except for the old Norse summoning spell that had to be preformed by a man, but that's entirely different kind of wand and wow, I guess Xander's right and I really do channel Anya when I'm really tired. Which makes no sense to you since you don't know who Anya is... or Xander for that matter... so, um, yeah."

Draco stared at her.

"You've studied wandless magic?!" he asked slowly, sounding like he barely believed what he was saying.

"In the mostly theoretical sense only. The whole throwing-you-across-the-dungeons thing: that was new and unusual."

The library was silent for several moments, during which Dawn returned to her newest book. Draco stood abruptly, the scraping of his chair sounding especially harsh in the quiet of the massive room. He began wandering aimlessly amongst the tables, lost in thought.

"Do many Muggles study magic?" he suddenly asked.

"Hmm, not really," Dawn answered absently. "I mean, there's this trend of New Age cults and religions, like Wicca, that use spells and rituals and other magicky-sounding things, but most people don't actually believe the magic is real."

"They're stupid, then."

"Maybe. Sometimes... Okay, yeah, so people can be ridiculously blind and stupid a lot of the time." She looked up at him. "But that's a people thing, not a non-magic thing."

Draco remembered the Ministry's adamant refusal to believe in the Dark Lord's return and merely shrugged at her comment, unable to deny her point. He was about to ask another question, when a sudden noise from the front of the room caught both their attention.

Angela was on her feet, staring intently at something beyond the library door. She frowned.

"Someone has entered the castle," she said, before either of them could ask.

"More aurors?" Draco asked, his eyes wide. Because the only alternative would be Death Eaters...

"No, they aren't human." Angela turned to Dawn. "They're calling for you."

"Calling for me?" Dawn asked with a confused frown.

Angela slipped forward and opened the library door a crack.

"Hey, Summers!" called the voice of a young man. The accent was American.

"Dawn! Dawn Summers!" This time the voice was female, also American.

Draco looked at Dawn out of the corner of his eye. She looked confused.

"Oi, Bit!" came a third - this time British - voice. "Nibblet, you 'ere?!"

There was a loud scraping sound as Dawn stood up abruptly and then a crash as the chair she was sitting on toppled over. Dawn's eyes were wide, her mouth gaping - Draco didn't think he'd ever seen anyone look so shocked before, ever.

"Spike?" she asked in soft voice. There was a hopefulness, a vulnerability in her voice he'd never heard before, not even when she was alone and chained up in his father's dungeons.

"Hey, there's light coming out of a room down this hallway!" Draco heard the American boy call from somewhere beyond the library door.

Footsteps raced down the hall and Angela moved back, taking a position just on the other side of Madame Pince's desk - where she wouldn't be immediately visible to anyone entering. The library door was flung wide open. In the doorway stood a pale man with short, slicked-back platinum blond hair. He was dressed like a Muggle, wearing a long, black leather coat with jeans. His eyes widened when he saw Dawn and then filled with joy.

"Dawn," he said, relief evident in his voice. He grinned.

Draco chanced a glimpse at Dawn and did a double-take when he noticed the tears gathering in her eyes.

"Spike, it-it's really you," she said softly and then slowly started walking forward, towards the newcomer.

She reached him and placed a tentative hand on his arm, as if testing that he was real. And then her arms were suddenly wrapped around the man as she clung to him, her eyes squeezed shut and her body trembling. A single sob escaped her. The man's eyes had widened momentarily, before a soft tenderness filled them and he returned the hug. His eyes closed and Draco noticed him take a deep breath.

Eventually, they broke apart. Dawn rubbed her eyes.

"You know, you are so lucky I don't have a stake on me," she said, her voice slightly hoarse.

Draco blinked, wondering if he'd heard right.

"What?" The man named Spike looked equally confused.

Dawn turned around and walked away from him, her hands clenched and eyes red-rimmed and blazing. "You heard me, " she said.

Spike sighed and followed her further into the library, briefly glancing at Angela as he walked by the librarian's desk. Two others followed in after him, closing the library door behind them. One of them was a petite woman with long, brown hair and the other a boy, who couldn't have been much older than Draco himself. Both scanned their surroundings as they entered.

"Look, Dawn-" Spike began, bringing Draco's attention back to him and Dawn.

"Don't you dare 'look, Dawn' me!" Dawn screamed as she whirled around. Her eyes were burning with anger that reminded Draco of Pansy after one of the second years had accidentally set one of her favourite French-designed cloaks on fire. He noticed with amusement that Spike took a step backwards as Dawn began to advance on him.

"You let us think you were dead. Did you just not care, or did you not think anyone was mourning for you, wishing you were still alive?" Spike opened his mouth. "And don't even think about making any 'but I'm not really alive' jokes, 'cause I'm sure there's enough wood in this room to make an adequate stake-substitute if I want it to."

Spike closed his mouth and blinked with wide eyes. Then Dawn's words began processing in Draco's mind and his eyes also widened as he realized what she was implying.

"Was it fun?" Dawn continued. "Did you enjoy your little secret? Or did we not matter enough - did _I_ not matter enough? I mean, after everything we'd gone through, after I'd begun to think of you as a second sort of big brother-type person, was I just not important enough to phone up and say 'hey, by the way, funny story, but I'm kinda not really dead after all'?!"

The library was silent.

"I'm sorry," Spike said softly. "I thought I was doing the right thing, letting you get on with your lives without me and all."

"Then you're an idiot," Dawn sniffed then the corners of her lips curved a bit into a half-smile. "A two hundred-year-old fucking moron."

"Yeah, a two hundred-year-old fucking moron." Spike smiled brightly. Then he frowned. "Should you be using language like that?"

"Pot, kettle," Dawn waved off his comment.

Then she noticed Draco gaping quietly in the corner. He was wide-eyed and looked practically frozen to the spot (whether in shock or fear it was difficult to tell, but Dawn guessed it was probably a mixture of both).

"Oh, so um, Draco, this is Spike," she said and motioned to Spike with her left hand. Then she looked at Spike and motioned towards Draco with her right. "Spike, that's Draco. He escaped with me from DLV's evil dungeon playhouse."

Spike raised an eyebrow at her.

"Not that kind of playhouse. Not any kind of playhouse, in fact. You can just forget I used the word 'playhouse'. Just think dungeons, as in dark and damp and dreary."

Spike snickered.

"You're really not helping yourself there," said an amused voice and Dawn turned to the brown-haired boy, who'd come with Spike. He raised a hand in a lazy sort of wave. "I'm Connor, by the way."

"Connor?" Dawn frowned, then her eyes suddenly widened. "Wait, Connor, as in Angel's son, Connor?!"

"Uh, yeah, Angel's my dad-"

"Oh my God!" Dawn practically squealed. "That's, like, totally epic! So you're Angel's son; you're the Destroyer. Wow."

Then she turned to the woman.

"Oh, hi, I'm Dawn - which you've probably already figured out..."

The woman smiled shyly back and waved.

"Heya, I think we've talked on the phone before," she said with a noticeable Texas twang in her voice. "I'm Fred."

"Oh, Fred, yeah I remember, you called Willow to tell her about Faith..." She frowned and her eyes narrowed. "Oh. But wait. Fred- Fred died." Her eyes widened and her next words came as a whisper. "You're Illyria."

And just like that, the sweet, pleasant expression vanished from the woman's face and was replaced with a hard, unemotional stare.

"If you know, then I no longer need to use this disgusting form," she said in a flat, inhuman voice.

"Uh, Blue, you might wanna keep that form for a wee bit longer there," said Spike. She turned her head and stared at him, until he tilted his head towards something behind Dawn. "The little one over there seems about ready to 'ave an aneurysm or something."

Dawn turned around to see Draco leaning against a table, eyes wide and shaking worse than a leaf in the wind. She winced and slowly walked towards him.

"Ah, sorry, Draco, I kinda wasn't thinking," she said softly with a smile. "To me magic and vampires and demons always came hand-in-hand. It's why I learned about magic in the first place, so really, I guess the demons and vampires came first."

"He-he's a vampire," said Draco, as he raised a shaking finger to point at Spike. "A-and she's, she's like-"

"Yes, Spike's a vampire, Illyria's a demon and Connor's a-" Here Dawn paused and frowned. She looked back to Connor for help, but he just shrugged. Dawn rolled her eyes and turned back to Draco. "Connor's a horribly unhelpful something. The important thing is, they're my friends."

Suddenly remembering her self-proclaimed protector, Dawn glanced over to Angela and met her eyes as she spoke.

"They're on our side. Allies."

Angela nodded and then relaxed her stance, leaning back against the wall, although Dawn couldn't help notice that her gaze shifted back to Spike and the others. Satisfied the demon wasn't going to suddenly go into attack-mode, Dawn turned back to Draco. She reached out and put a steadying hand on his shoulder. Draco took a deep breath.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

"You're human, right?" he asked, before looking up and meeting her eyes. His face was blank and there was still fear reflected in his eyes, but at least he no longer looked like he was about to hyperventilate. Dawn breathed a sigh of relief. Her smile brightened.

"Yup, totally, one hundred percent human!"

Draco relaxed slightly.

Just then, the library door creaked open.

* * *

Somehow, sneaking around Hogwarts in the early hours of the morning (he'd checked - it was 4:06 am exactly) never failed to make Remus feel like a student again. Escaping from under the ever-watchful eye of Madame Pomfrey even more so - although, if asked, Remus would absolutely deny the thrill of excitement he'd felt as the hospital wing's door finally clicked shut behind him. He was an adult, after all.

He only wished he didn't feel quite so sore and worn-out as he slowly made his way down the main stairwell with a small Muggle book clasped in his good hand. Thanks to Severus' potion, his bones were now healed, but they still felt tender and made his movements slightly stilted and slow.

He'd finally reached the bottom of the stairs, when the main castle doors opened, letting in a slight gust of warm wind and a person. Remus's breath caught in panic, before he noticed the unmistakably swirling magical eye belonging to Alastor Moody. The senior auror automatically reached for his wand as he walked into the building, but visibly relaxed and calmly shut the door as he recognized his fellow order member. He approached Remus with a slight frown.

"Remus," he greeted gruffly, "I'm surprised to see you out and about at this time of night. Madame Pomfrey let you leave the infirmary already?"

"Uh, well, no... not exactly," Remus answered, somewhat sheepishly. "I've been using my recovery time to do some research into the vampire problem-" Here, Moody nodded in approval. "-and I think I may have figured out, who this Spike is. I just need to check something in the library to confirm it. I'm not entirely certain how reliable my source is..."

What Remus barely wanted to admit to himself, was that the innocuous-looking Muggle book had filled him with equal parts wonder and terror. If it was accurate, then Remus had to say it was one of the most concise and informative (and amusing) books on vampires he'd ever read. Although, it contained a lot of things he couldn't confirm as true, enough of what was written in the book Remus recognized as facts he'd read elsewhere, which meant the authors knew what they were talking about at least most of the time.

However, if the contents of the book were entirely accurate and Spike was, who the mysterious "Scoobies" claimed he was, they were all in deep trouble.

"Who do you think he is?" Moody asked with a frown.

"The book I have claims Spike is a name this particular vampire took on after he'd already become famous - or infamous rather - under another one..."

Several moments passed and Moody made an impatient noise.

"Well, spit it out man! Who does your book claim that he was?!"

Remus took a deep breath. "William the Bloody."

Moody's non-magical eye widened and his magical one froze mid-swirl. The corridor was blanketed in silence so eerie that Remus half-expected to hear the quiet drip, drip, drip of water from some unknown place. He fidgeted slightly.

"I don't want to spread any needless panic, so I want to confirm this first-"

"The vampires were comparing him to Angelus," Moody cut in, although Remus thought it sounded more like the man was thinking out loud. "Said defeating this Spike would be second to defeating him. If Spike is just another name for William the Bloody, then their words would make sense..."

Moody shook his head and then placed a hand on Remus's shoulder.

"Verify it as soon as you can, Remus. If this is truly William the Bloody we're dealing with, then we'll have to take immediate action. He cannot be allowed to meet with You-Know-Who."

Remus nodded and then watched as Mad-Eye hurried off towards the dungeons. Remus shuddered as he watched him disappear into their depths. He couldn't believe the demon was at Hogwarts, in the dungeons of all places. As students, they had sometimes joked that the Slytherins had one locked up down there to sacrifice Muggle virgins to (how exactly they were supposed to get their hands on Muggle virgins at Hogwarts was a mystery they'd never bothered solving). But to think there was actually a demon down there...

Remus shook himself and then resumed his trek to the library. He was glad he wouldn't be facing it again. In fact, he was staying far, far away from the dungeons. In the library, where a demon would never have any reason to visit.

He walked into the library and closed the door behind him.

* * *

Angela looked up as the library doors opened and then closed. She could feel the others in the room doing the same. The man - no, he was a half-breed - didn't notice there were people in the room until he'd closed the door behind him. He moved with difficulty, though he was relatively young - by human standards. Injured then perhaps, but she smelt no blood. He'd taken one step into the room when he noticed he wasn't alone and froze. Angela recognized him.

"Lupin!" Draco exclaimed in surprise.

"Oi, oi, this is supposed to be a private party," said Spike. He sniffed the air and smirked. "No mongrels allowed."

Beside him, Fred snorted.

"You're a mongrel yourself," she said, her voice containing a heavy dose of demon.

"Yes, but I'm a different breed of mongrel. I'm stronger and faster and-"

"Bionic?" Dawn asked, rolling her eyes. Then she turned to the man, who'd entered, observing him with narrowed eyes.

He looked nothing special: shaggy brown hair peppered with grey, a pleasant face and deep, blue eyes. He looked no older than Giles, although there were more lines on his face, which spoke of a harder life. He was wearing shabby, brown robes over what looked like standard hospital garb (well, to Dawn it looked like what robe-wearing wizards might consider standard hospital garb). His eyes were wide with surprise. Then he turned his attention to Draco and plastered on what looked like it was supposed to be a pleasant smile and was clearly an attempt to hide his fear.

"Hello, Mr. Malfoy," he said. "I thought you were supposed to be inside Slytherin House."

"So did most people," Dawn answered, glancing quickly to the side to meet Angela's eyes. "And, sorry, Mr., uh, Lupin?" She looked to Draco and he nodded. "But we kinda want to keep it that way."

Now his eyes widened in fear and he swung around towards the door, only to gasp and immediately back away a few steps, paling, as he found his way blocked. Angela folded her arms across her chest as she leaned against the library doors.

"You are the wolf from the shopping district," she said calmly, as she stared at him. "You attempted to defend me. The effort was brave, although useless."

"Ah, y-yes, you clearly didn't need my help," the poor man stammered out, looking almost as pale as Spike.

"Okay stop, right there," Dawn suddenly exclaimed, making the already jumpy man, jump slightly - although, not enough to take his eyes off the demon-masquerading-as-helpless-human-girl in front of him. "Shopping district?" She looked pointedly at Azazella. "Explain. With subtitles, if necessary."

Angela nodded and then abandoned her staring contest with the half-breed in front of her. Out of the corner of her eyes, she noticed him relax slightly.

"Two days ago I went to London and followed the smell of magic," she began, her voice deeper now. "I discovered a hidden district, where wizards lived. As I was walking through it, I was attacked." She grinned. "I defended myself."

"D-defended yourself?!" the man exclaimed. "You got hit by an Avada Kadavra and didn't even blink. I highly doubt you needed to defend yourself!"

Beside her, Dawn heard Draco's sharp intake of breath. Angela merely cocked her head.

"She was a threat. I eliminated her."

"You slaughtered her!"

"You do know you're talking to a demon, right?" Connor spoke up and the man's head snapped towards the new voice. "Defend, kill, slaughter: it's all kinda the same thing to them. Only difference is whether you do it fast or slow."

"Who exactly did she eliminate, slaughter or whatever?" Dawn asked with a slight frown.

"Bellatrix Lestrange," Draco answered quietly, looking shocked. "Two days ago was when Diagon Alley was attacked. It makes sense that Aunt Bellatrix would've led the attack."

Dawn's eyes widened.

"Oh my God, Draco!" she gasped, a hand in front of her mouth. She placed her other hand on his shoulder. "I'm so sorry."

Draco nodded, his eyes a bit distant.

"I barely knew her and what memories I do have aren't exactly good."

"Still, she's family," Connor piped up. "Even if she was a psycho dark magic-using bitch lady, she's still related to you by blood."

"Listen to him, if anyone would know how you're feeling, it's him," Dawn whispered conspiratorially. She looked thoughtful for a moment. "Quite literally, actually." She looked to Connor. "I mean, we all think of you as Angel's son, but Darla was your mother, wasn't she?"

"Um, yeah," the boy answered with a shrug. "Never actually met her in person except for that one time, but that was when you guys were dealing with the First, so I'm pretty sure it wasn't actually her."

"Still, she probably makes Draco's aunt look like a slightly crazy nun."

Draco snorted.

"I don't think such a person exists," said Lupin, finally turning away from the demon guarding the door and towards everyone else in the room. "Bellatrix was a monster."

Spike snorted.

"No, this Bellatrix of yours was human; _Darla_ was a monster," he said. "She made Jack the Ripper look like a bloody humanitarian. Making Angelus into who 'e was should be proof enough of that."

Draco's eyes went wide. He looked at Dawn and pointed at Connor.

"You said he wasn't a vampire!" he accused.

"He isn't," she answered. "His father was. And his mother. And, no, we have no idea how that happened."

"There was a prophecy and a crazy ancient demon-y god lady that possessed Cordelia and used her body to give birth to herself," said Connor.

Everyone in the room, who wasn't either Spike or Illyria, turned to stare at him. He shrugged.

"Wait a minute," Draco suddenly whispered, his eyes somehow growing even wider than they'd already been. "You said Angelus. As in _the_ Angelus, th-the-"

"Scourge of Europe, Butcher, Angel-Faced Demon... yup, that's my dad!" Connor grinned menacingly for a moment. "Though he goes by Angel now. Converted to the side of good to help save innocent souls and repent for a lifetime of evil, or something. The usual redemption gig."

Remus was trying his hardest to wrap his potions-blurred mind around what he was hearing. At least he was blaming it on the potions, because he refused to believe it was panic at being locked up in a room full of who it was full of. His only consolation - as feeble as it was - was that the Malfoy boy seemed to be having just as hard a time of accepting everything he was being told as Remus was. Because the worst part of the whole conversation was that Remus didn't think they were lying.

Out of the corner of his right eye, he noticed some movement. He glanced over and saw that the petite brunette had apparently gotten bored and decided to go wandering through the library. As a result of Severus's wonder-potion, his inner wolf was stronger than it usually was this far away from the full moon. He couldn't explain it, but as he watched her movements, he felt uneasy, as though his instincts were trying to tell him there was more to her than what he could see. Which, all things considered, really didn't surprise him as much as it should have.

He looked at the other two strangers. The boy, who was apparently the son of Angelus (his fuzzied brain refused to contemplate the logistics of that), looked like a rather ordinary young man, no different than some of the seventh years he had once taught. The man leaning on the bookshelf behind him, however, was a bit more distinctive with his slicked-back platinum blond hair and long black leather coat...

Remus blinked and then frowned. He seemed somehow familiar. He blinked again and then his brain - in a sudden burst of shock-induced clarity - nudged him into realizing the obvious.

His hands were shaking slightly as he clumsily leafed through the small, Muggle book he'd been carrying up 'till now, eventually managing to flip it open at the page he'd dog-eared two hours ago. The bottom left quarter of the page was taken over by a black and white, hand-drawn image of a man. The caption below the image read: 'William the Bloody, 1856'. Remus's eyes flashed between the image and the platinum-blond man in front of him. The hair was completely different, the clothes even more so and the vampire in the image was wearing glasses, but the facial features were undeniably similar.

"Oh goddess!" Dawn suddenly squealed, making Remus jump and then wince as his newly-healed ribs protested the sudden movement.

He looked up in time to watch as Dawn bounded towards him, looking rather giddy. She grabbed the book in his hands and crouched slightly as she angled it so that she could see the front cover clearly. Once she had, she let go of the book and jumped up, eyes sparkling with excitement.

"I can't believe an actually magicky person bought this book," she said. "I can't wait to tell Buffy; Giles sooo lost that bet. He was all stiff-upper-lip Britishy when he insisted no one would ever take it seriously-"

"Y-you know the authors of this book?" Remus asked, torn between feeling excited at being so close at figuring this puzzle out and overwhelmed by so many bizarre coincidences. "The Scoobies and the editor, Ripper Giles: you know who they are?!"

Dawn grinned.

"Sure do. I'm a Scoobie, well, sorta. More like a Scrappy, really, but whatever. It's all the same cartoon."

Remus's eyes widened. "Then the dedication..."

"Huh? Dedication?" She frowned for a moment and then realization flooded her face. "Oh! Yeah, the dedication." She became serious and held out her hand. "Can I borrow that for a sec?"

Remus nodded and handed it to her. Then he frowned as, instead of the explanation he was expecting, she took it and walked over to the platinum-blond man. She held it out to him. He raised an eyebrow at her, but took it anyway. He looked at the front cover and snorted.

"You put Peaches on the front cover?" he asked and Remus thought he detected a hint of a sulk.

The brown-haired boy leaned over to take a look. He chuckled.

"Oh yeah, it really is," he said. "And, hey, is that Buffy?"

"Yes, to both," said Dawn. "Xander and one of the girls designed the cover. That's actually what she wore when she defeated the Master."

"Really?" Spike asked.

"Yes, really, now you-" She pointed at him. "-open it and read."

As he watched, the vampire's expression change from a confused frown to slightly misty-eyed incredulity. Remus realized his question had just been answered.

"You-you're William the Bloody," he whispered. The vampire's head whipped up and his eyes narrowed. Remus breathed in sharply.

"It's Spike now, mate," the - apparently infamous - vampire said coldly, before turning back to the book. But Remus heard him mutter to himself. "Bloody werewolves. The other one didn't have it right either."

Dawn swatted him.

"Hey, play nice," she admonished.

"Spike," a deep voice interrupted the momentary silence. Spike looked up, twisting his neck to glance backwards at where the petite brunette stood holding a copy of the _Daily Prophet_. "I found this on a table that looked like Wesley's office."

She held the paper up, so that the front page was visible. _Fenrir Greyback Found Dead_, read the headline in bold print.

"Bloody Hell," said Spike, chuckling. "That's the second person in less than two weeks, who's ended up on the front page after we'd kill 'im. Few more and we can call it a trend. Might even become a hobby."

Remus could've sworn he heard the bottom half of his jaw hit the stone floor of the library. He saw Dawn curiously studying the newspaper as a nervous, but more-curious-than-terrified Draco cautiously approached them, but Remus couldn't hear a word they said over the buzzing of the thoughts running in his own mind. He'd known Fenrir Greyback was dead - he'd read that same article the group was reading right now. However, standing before him was apparently the man/creature, who'd killed him. So that meant it had to be true: he'd never have to see Greyback again. A sea of emotions passed through his mind: elation, excitement, apprehension, incredulity, and fear. Cold, naked fear. Fenrir Greyback was the most vicious individual Remus had ever met.

He stared at the leather-clad vampire with increasingly-wider eyes.

Connie Price cursed heavily in every language she could think of, the coffee in her hand the only thing keeping her from making up languages of her own just so she could curse in them as well. She glared at the pedestrians rushing by, completely oblivious to the random female driver glaring at them as they went _faster than she was_. Driving round Piccadilly Circus during morning rush hour traffic: what had she been thinking?!

The journalist took a long drink from her paper cup of liquid sanity, which reminded her why. She glared half-heartedly at the flowery paper bag sitting innocently on the passenger seat beside her. Damn Madame Ouellette for making such good choc au pain first thing in the morning. And damn herself for deciding she really, really needed one this morning.

Connie turned back to glaring at the car in front of her, as if the sheer force of her glare could make it move. And then it did move... an entire metre. Connie sighed and slumped forward. If this was all the force of her glare amounted to, she may as well not waste the effort. Wracking her brain, she tried to remember if there were any demonstrations or state visits or roadwork happening today, because she could've sworn she'd never seen Piccadilly quite this slow.

She would've loved to have been able to open her window and soak in some of the lively Piccadilly Circus air, but all the exhaust fumes she saw around her scared her just a bit. She used to pass through Piccadilly quite a bit when she was younger, back when she didn't have a car, but had a nightlife. The lights weren't as bright or as exciting during the day, but the rush of the city was every bit as energizing.

Through the space between cars on her right, she could see that stone steps around Eros's fountain were already packed with tourists taking pictures, clusters of people chatting away and a few loners looking half-awake as they drank out of paper cups. Pedestrians walked past, running errands or on their way to work, or perhaps just out for a stroll, dodging illegal stalls and papersellers. And all moving faster than she was.

The mass of cars slinked another two metres forward.

Connie sighed and tilted her head to the left. At least she'd finally made it to the intersection. Looking at all the idle, happy people around the fountain while she was frustrated with trying to get to work on time was not helping. Not that the sidewalk underneath the billboarded Victorian building was any less busy, nor that those walking were somehow moving slower, but it was something different to stare at for a while. In front of some American clothing store chain, there was a pair of girls leaning against the black metal railing that separated the sidewalk from the street, chatting away as they sipped what were unmistakably chilled drinks from Starbucks. There was nothing unusual about them except one of them was wearing a hat. A knitted, multi-coloured hat in the middle of a muggy London summer.

Connie gaped and quickly looked away, lest she feel inclined to waste even more petrol than she already was by turning up the air-conditioning.

Moments later she was frowning as her eyes scanned the sidewalk she could see around the junction. Then she turned her head to the right and into her rear-view mirror at the stone-paved bend, containing the fountain. Was it her imagination or were there an awful lot of serious, burly-looking men with black dufflebags or knapsacks loitering about? Now that she was looking properly, she could see one sitting on the steps of the fountain, Starbucks coffee in hand, silently watching the crowd. Perhaps that was what was the most conspicuous about them: they all looked tense, attentive in a very non-casual way as if actively trying to blend in. They clearly weren't just waiting around for the stores to open.

She noticed another one standing by railing next to the traffic lights, watching idly as people walked past him. He almost looked as though he were waiting for someone. He turned slightly just as the slight breeze blew against the thin material of his t-shirt, hugging it closer to his chest.

Connie gaped. She was on the police beat. She'd even been to the middle east once to cover peace talks when their regular reporter caught some sort of virus. She knew a bullet-proof vest when she saw one.

Thoughts whirled through her head as she set her coffee into the holder and reached for her purse and then dug through the mammoth white bag – and she really did need to get something more compact and organized. Had the merchants in the area hired some sort of private security? Finally, she pulled out her pink, pocket-sized digital camera and turned it on, keeping her head facing forward as she disabled the flash. Taking pictures through the traffic, while trying to look like she wasn't, was a challenge, but hopefully some of them would be acceptable.

Perhaps her editor wouldn't be quite as cross with her for being late if she arrived with a potential exclusive story for him.

She was about to turn her camera off when they appeared.

Or rather, they popped into existence; black-robed, white-masked figures suddenly standing where empty space had been before. Like magic.

Connie's reporter instincts reacted first and before her brain had caught up to what was happening, she'd already snapped three more photos. Then one of the robed figures pointed their wand at a nearby pedestrian. What followed reminded her of a scene out of a Star Trek movie, with a swift laser beam of light coming out of the wand and then the nameless person falling to the ground like a store-front mannequin.

Connie paused, her camera finger frozen in place. Because this wasn't a movie. This was real and that person was dead.

"Shit," she whispered. She was in the middle of a war zone.

She took a deep, shaky, breath as she tried to think of every terrorist action movie she'd ever seen. 'What would Harrison Ford do?' she wondered.

No sudden movements.

Slowly, she slid the camera into her pocket and then eased her seat belt off, body stiff, barely breathing. Around her, she could hear screaming and shouting, but the inside of her car was like a bubble – a very thin, transparent layer between her and the outside world. She physically pushed back a wave of panic as she watched a car up ahead of her being lifted off the ground, hovering above the traffic as if it were being held up with invisible wires. A head popped out of one of the windows, arms waving around.

"Jesus," Connie breathed, eyes wide.

Then she heard a gunshot and started. The car crashed back to the ground.

She looked to the side and gasped. Those odd, loitering men – and women - were now armed, each hefting a semi-automatic and had an armband decorated with the British flag strapped to their right bicep. A few were wearing red berets. Connie recognized the insignia. The army – they were the _army_.

The man who'd been standing around by the lights was now crouching behind the lamp post and aiming his gun, while the one who'd been sitting on the fountain steps was shouting orders, herding nearby civilians into the Trocadero center. She heard more gunshots from the other side of the streets and looked to see soldiers keeping the wizards occupied, while some of the other, smaller store offered refuge.

Oh how she wished her camera wasn't in her pocket. Feeling an odd surge of pride on behalf of the non-magical citizens of Britain, she decided it was time to move. Sitting ducks never survived 'till the end of any movie.

She carefully slid over the gear handle and into the passenger side seat, grabbing her purse as she did so. Then she opened the door only as far as she needed to slip out sideways and into a crouch behind the car, closing the door softly behind her. She saw people running through the street, but clamped down on the urge to follow. The wizards were on the sidewalks for now and she had a row of cars on either side of her.

Don't make yourself a target.

She crept along the line of cars, looking both ways before moving to the next one, trying to keep an eye on the location of the wizards. She peeked over a black and white mini cooper in time to watch one of the soldiers fall to the ground, screaming in pain. A wizard strode up to him, wand trained on the fallen man. Suddenly, the wizard lurched forward and fell to the ground, blood beginning to pool around his head. A dark-skinned woman carrying a rifle ran up to help the soldier up.

Connie's fingers itched for a camera, but she wasn't stupid. Taking pictures would take more fumbling than she had time for and getting somewhere safe from both magic spells and stray bullets was paramount. And then avoiding getting her memory zapped, of course.

She paused. Would the Ministry of Magic or whatever they called themselves really be able to erase the memories of all the people here? Would they dare? She didn't bother trying to speculate and instead unzipped the small front pocket on her purse. Now, more than ever, she was glad she always kept her cell within easy reach. She dialed and waited, keeping her head as low as she could. Her legs were beginning to burn from the odd crouch she was maintaining, but she didn't dare relax in case she would suddenly need to move out of the way of something.

The phone ran exactly three times.

"Hello, Telegraph newsroom, Irving Wh-"

"Mr. Whiteshad, listen, it's Connie Price," she interrupted her editor, "I'm in Piccadilly Circus. It's under attack. It's the wizards, lots of them and the army's here! They were waiting for the attack or guarding the area or something like that, but either way they're protecting the civilians."

She heard a loud intake of breath.

"Oh God, Connie, are you alright?!"

"I'm fine. For now. I'm calling in case I get my memory wiped. I've got photos on my camera and...and my phone! That's right, it's got a camera too! So I'll use it to get some photos too. Just make sure you remind me if I forget."

"Right, got it. Just make sure you get back here alive."

"That's the plan, Mr. Whiteshad, believe me."

She hung up, not seeing the point of pleasantries when her life was in the balance.

Being the prisoner of a demon and one of the most notorious vampires in the world, should not, by definition, be boring. And yet, Remus found himself sitting at a library table, holding his head up with his non-wand arm and trying very hard not to fall asleep. His captors were completely ignoring him in favour of talking amongst themselves. Mostly, they seemed to be making plans to leave. Which suited Remus just fine except that he knew full well the vampire wouldn't be able to leave until at least this evening.

The library door was suddenly flung open with a loud bang and Remus yelped as he nearly jumped out of his skin.

"Professor Lupin!"

"Remus, are you okay?!"

"We saw... on the map-"

"Oi, oi, I really don't recall sending out invitations!"

Remus's blood froze in his veins at the familiar voices. Of all the times...

"Harry, what are you three-?" he began, when suddenly the reality of the situation hit him like a speeding bludger. Eyes wide he stood abruptly and began to yell, hoping they would just do as they were told for once and quickly. "Get out of here, now! Run!"

For some reason, that completely baffled Remus, that wasn't the reaction they seemed to be expecting. During their split-second hesitation, Angela slid in behind them and shut the library door with a resounding click. Harry, Ron and Hermione whirled around at the sound, their wands now pointed at the harmless-looking woman.

Angela grinned. "Welcome to my parlour," she said and then the smile slid off her face.

There were a few moments of silence.

"Taking up fly-catching as a hobby, are you?" Dawn asked with a chuckle.

The woman nodded once.

"Yes," she deadpanned.

Ron whirled around, looking furious.

"You!" he exclaimed. "I knew you were in league with Malfoy! You dressed up like a Muggle just so that we would trust you and-"

"Okay, whoa, stop right there!" said Dawn, throwing her hands up in front of her in an international gesture of 'stop'. "First off, if anything, he's in league with me. Secondly, way to focus on the two least dangerous people in the room. Seriously, you might want to work on those survival instincts of yours."

By now, Harry and Hermione had both half-turned to the side to look at the rest of the room, although their wands were kept trained on Angela. Who was completely unfazed by the threat and looked rather bored. Harry was frowning.

"Why exactly do you think your Muggle friends are a threat to us?" Harry asked.

"Harry," said Hermione, mild exasperation in her voice despite the situation, "if they were Muggles, they wouldn't have been able to find Hogwarts."

"The one by the door is a demon, if that helps," said Draco with an air of casual arrogance.

Remus rolled his eyes, but said nothing. He noticed Angelus's son was looking at the blond with amusement.

"Oi, Junior, Blue, check out the scar on Four-Eyes," Spike suddenly declared. "It's Harry the Wonder-kid."

"Harry the Wonder-kid?" Dawn asked.

"Yeah, the wizards call 'im the Boy-Who-Lived. Think he's the one, who's going to save them from the Dark Lord You-Know-Who!"

"Actually, his name's Voldemort," said Dawn.

"Yeah, the kids we met in New York told me and Blue as much."

"New York? There's, like, Wizardlands in the US too?"

"Yep."

They both watched Fred as she waltzed past them towards Harry, Ron and Hermione. She stopped in front of Harry and stared at him for several moments.

"You're Harry Potter?" she asked with wide eyes, sounding once more like the sweet girl, Fred.

Harry blinked and then nodded. "Yes... I am."

"And you're supposed to defeat this Lord Voldemort guy?"

Harry nodded again, wondering where this was going. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Ron flinch at the name. She noticed as well and cocked her head at the redhead.

"Why do you flinch at his name?" she asked in a dull voice.

"It's a habit carried over from the First War, I'm afraid," Remus interrupted. The petite brunette turned to him. "Those were very dark times. People disappeared without warning and were later found dead, or sometimes not at all. Everyone lived in terror of coming home to see the Dark Mark in the sky above their homes. It's superstition, I suppose, but everyone became so afraid that they stopped speaking You-Know-Who's name lest he suddenly appear before them."

There were a few moments of silence and then-

"Wow, that's kind of..." Dawn began.

"Silly?" Connor finished. "I mean, they didn't even give him a cool nickname, just some lame substitute. I'd protest that if I were him."

Spike chuckled and shrugged before shuffling off towards the back of the library. Dawn followed him with her eyes for a few moments, before turning her attention to where Hermione was looking slightly stunned, Ron outraged and Harry amused.

"You don't understand!" Ron finally exclaimed. "How could a bunch of Muggles possibly understand?!"

"I'm getting a weird sense of deja vu," Dawn muttered and Draco made a small sort of distressed sound - as if having anything at all with the redhead physically pained him.

"Ron, don't-" Harry began, but Ron whirled on him with blazing eyes.

"No, Harry, don't you dare! You didn't grow up hearing the stories, watching everyone's eyes cloud over whenever anyone mentioned them. Mum and dad are trying to be strong and hide the fact that their absolutely terrified of what's coming. And I know mum gets up in the middle of the night to go cry quietly in the living room, because she doesn't want to worry us. A name might not seem like much to you, but to us it is."

"Ron-" Harry began, feeling horrible for upsetting his friend.

"Humans are ridiculous creature," a deep voice suddenly boomed, making Harry jump slightly. "They have so much to fear, yet they bother to create more fears."

Harry gaped at the speaker. It was the brunette. The petite woman had seemed harmless, but the dull, emotionless voice she was now speaking in, combined with the intense, yet slightly detached, look in her eyes, made her suddenly look very, very creepy. And definitely not harmless. She was now looking directly at him.

Harry gulped.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"The name is false. It has no power, yet you fear to speak it."

Hermione gasped.

"How did you know it wasn't his real name?" she asked.

"It has no power." The strange woman didn't even bother looking at Hermione as she answered.

"But how can you _tell_ it has no power?"

Now the woman finally turned to face her.

"When this world was mine many did not speak my name for mine had power as I was powerful. When someone spoke my name, I heard it."

"Wh-who are you?" Harry asked.

And then the woman changed, morphed into something completely inhuman.

"I am Illyria," said the now blue-haired demon in a tone of voice that seemed to imply that should be explanation enough.

The first thought to cross Remus' mind was that he'd been right, there certainly was more to the petite brunette than had met the eye. Her presence didn't quite fill the room the way the other demon's had, however. Which meant very little, because the sword hanging at her waist could undoubtedly do more damage to the three students, than any of their spells could do to her.

"Petrificus Totalus!" Ron screeched. The spell bounced harmlessly off the demon.

"Hermione, why isn't it working?!" Ron suddenly asked in a panicked sort of voice that was half-way between a whine and a screech.

"Your magic is too weak to harm me," Illyria declared.

Ron looked to Hermione for confirmation. Hermione shrugged.

"It's probably because she's a demon," she answered.

"Probably? What do you mean probably?! And what are we supposed to use that'll work definitely?!"

"I don't know, Ron," the girl spat. "Demonology is an extremely advanced branch of magical studies, so - believe it or not - none of our textbooks actually covered it."

"Bu-but you're supposed to know everything!"

Dawn chuckled. The two of them almost sounded like a younger version of Xander and Willow.

"Ron, stop it!" Harry interrupted the red-head's rant. "None of this is helping."

"Then what exactly-"

Just then, Lupin stepped in and placed a hand on the boy's shoulder.

"Ron, please calm down," he said in a calming voice. "All you're doing is making a bad situation worse. There's more than one demon in the room and so far they haven't actually harmed anyone."

The students tensed.

"There's more than one demon?" Harry asked in a small voice as his eyes darted to the other occupants of the room.

"Er, yes. The, uh, the one guarding the door is the same one that killed Bellatrix Lestrange."

Hermione frowned as she turned slightly in order to get a second look at the woman leaning casually against the library door.

"She's a demon?" she asked. "But she doesn't look like-" Angela raised an eyebrow and shifted into her demon form. "-oh."

Draco leaned in closer to Dawn.

"Do all demons look like that?" he asked her in a low voice. "I would've expected more, I don't know, horns or claws or something."

"Usually there are horns or claws or sharp pointy teeth or scales or tentacles or other weird, miscellaneous appendages," she answered. "Those two are special."

"Illyria used to be a god," Connor supplied helpfully, grinning at Draco's stunned expression.

"Oh my god!" Dawn suddenly exclaimed.

"Um, no, I don't think she was ever your god..." Connor said with a frown, but Dawn ignored him.

"That's two out of four! There's no way in any circle, square or any other geometric shape in hell that this is a coincidence!"

"Uhh, okay, confused here," said Connor. "And I'm pretty sure it's not a just a guy thing, 'cause Blondie Bear Mark 2 over there looks just as confused."

"Blondie- wait what?!"

Any further arguments were cut off as Spike suddenly dashed back into the group, practically bouncing with excitement.

"Oi, look what I found on the pseudo-Wesley desk!" he exclaimed with a grin as he held out a single scrap of paper and showed it to Dawn.

"I know I will be dead long before you read this but I want you to know that it was I who discovered your secret," Dawn read out loud. She frowned and looked up at Spike. "I don't get it. Who's RAB?"

"None of your business," Hermione stated, stepping towards them. "That's ours and its important." She held her hand out expectantly. "So, I'd like you to give it back."

Spike raised an amused eyebrow and stared at the girl. Hermione's breath sped up slightly, but she squared her chin and didn't back down. Eventually, Spike smirked.

"So, do you know who RAB is?" he asked. She tensed.

"As I said before, it's none of your-"

"I do," Spike interrupted her quietly. Hermione froze and her eyes widened slightly as he continued. "I know, who RAB is."

"You-you do?" she asked quietly. Sparks of excitement began to ignite in her eyes. "Who is he?"

She made about two steps towards Spike, when Remus grabbed her by the upper arm.

"Hermione, be careful!" he said sharply. "He's a vampire and an extremely dangerous one at that."

Spike chuckled gleefully. Dawn sighed.

"Don't even start, Spike," she said, before sending a half-hearted glare at Remus. "You did read the dedication, right?"

"Well, yes-"

"Then you got the part where he's a hero, right? You don't save the world and then go kill everyone. Well... not usually, anyway."

Spike beamed proudly.

"You saved the world?" Harry asked, looking hopeful.

"Yup, sacrificed myself and everything," Spike answered him.

"Which means he's one of the good guys." Dawn said pointedly and then turned to the blond vampire. "So, RAB?"

He blinked twice.

"Oh, right," he said. "I take it you haven't found the trick to the note yet?" he then asked Hermione

The girl wrenched her arm out of the werewolf's grasp.

"There's a trick?"

Instead of answering her, he waved his left hand in Connor's direction.

"Oi, Junior," he called, "lend me your arm. Your blood should be human enough for this to work."

Connor scowled, but stepped up to Spike and held out his arm as asked. He didn't even flinch as Spike slipped a large knife out of somewhere and sliced open his hand. Someone gasped, but the two ignored it as Spike tilted the appendage over the note and watched as blood welled up in the cut,before dripping steadily onto the paper. After several drops had fallen, Spike let go and Connor calmly took his hand back, pressing his other hand against the wound, to stop the blood-flow.

"What's it supposed to do?" Harry asked.

"Patience, Wonder-boy, patience," said Spike with a chuckle.

Lupin and the other wizards took a few unconscious steps forward as they watched the blood seep into the paper, gradually disappearing like water into parched soil.

Suddenly, a booming laugh filled the library. Spike smirked and let the note go, taking two steps back as it fluttered to the ground.

Dark smoke began to surround the note, as if boiling out of the pores in the paper. It spread upwards, until it touched the ceiling and began to form a vaguely human-like shaped cloud that wavered in a non-existent breeze. The smoke then filled out to the sides in the shape to two, badly-formed outstretched arms.

Fiery eyes suddenly opened in the figure's head facing Remus and the Gryffindor students . They took a step back in alarm. Dawn frowned at their reaction and carefully circled around to where they stood.

The booming laughter stopped.

After a few minutes of complete silence, Spike frowned. "That's can't be ev-"

"LORD VOLDEMORT!" a strong, yet slightly crackled voice exclaimed as fiery lips appeared.

Spike rolled his eyes.

"DID YOU THINK I WOULD SIMPLY BEAR THE INSULT?! THAT I WOULD MOURN MY PRECIOUS ONE SILENTLY?!"

There was a dramatic pause. Connor, who'd come to stand next to Harry, chuckled in amusement.

"Looks like Mr. Nasty Wizard Extraordinaire managed to piss off someone equally nasty," he commented. "Or at least equally dramatic."

"**The Wizards are fools,** " the voice continued, albeit more quietly. "**They think you are dead, but I have discovered your secret. I know you split your soul - a pathetic attempt to gain immortality. And now, this part is mine.**"

Laughter filled the room again, although this time it didn't boom through the room and, in fact, sounded just a little broken and hysterical.

"**And so, in the name of my beloved Ophelia, I, ****Roland Algeron Belfar,**** curse this fragment of your soul. And I curse you, Thomas Marvolo Riddle! Come, find me, and learn the meaning of Hell on Earth!**"

No sooner had the voice finished speaking, fiery eyes and lips vanished and the booming laughter returned. The smokey figure began to whirl around into a room-sized tornado that affected nothing outside the dark cloud. Faster and faster it whipped around, until it seemed to reach some sort of peak. The tornado paused before suddenly flooding back into the paper as if someone had pressed a rewind button.

The library was silent again.

"Okay," Dawn began, "What the hell does that mean?"

Connor shrugged.

"Road trip?"

During the longest half hour of her life, Connie had somehow managed to reach past the junction and then get far enough away from the actual fighting that she felt like she could momentarily relax. Despite her rapidly beating heart and panic-fogged mind, part of her still managed to find amusement in knowing that it had taken her less time to arrive at Haymarket Street when she'd been drunk on a few too many tequila shots and wearing vertigo-inducing stiletto heels.

From her vantage point behind a large white lorry, she looked for a hiding spot. The street was deserted, everyone having sought refuge either inside the shops or as far away from the area as they could. She could still see the fighting and hear gunshots being fired, but neither spells nor bullets had made it this far yet. Her cellphone memory was full of pictures and safely tucked away in her bra strap, where not even paranoid wizards were likely to look.

She took one last look around and one last deep, calming breath and darted out from behind the row of cars, which had been her barrier up 'till now. Four galloping horses were frozen in stone, looking as though they were trying to escape from the large stone building. It was in the slight nook between the statue and the building that Connie found her new temporary refuge. She crouched low, making herself as small and compact as she could.

She took out her camera and turned it on. Then she looked back up the street towards the circus and froze. One, lone dark-garbed, masked wizard was walking up the street, looking around as he strolled casually on the sidewalk. Like a dog trying to sniff out a rabbit in a forest. And she was the rabbit.

Just then her digital camera made a small little musical noise as it finished turning on. The wizard froze. Connie held her breath and squeezed herself further back into her little corner. He turned in her direction and began to walk, wand drawn and pointed in front of him.

It took him about three steps to spot her. Connie's eyes widened. The stone pedestal of the statue and brick wall against her back and side were unyielding. She struggled to catch her breath as it escaped her in short, painful pants. She knew she should run, try to get away, try something, but she couldn't move. All she could do was stare at the expressionless white mask and the wand pointing at her.

The wizard chuckled.

Connie closed her eyes tightly and prayed for a miracle.

Suddenly there was a thud and a splash followed by a rather unmanly shriek. Connie opened her eyes in surprise.

The wizard wasn't pointing his wand at her anymore. Instead he was staring at something on the ground. Connie immediately recognized the clear plastic Starbucks cup and the dome-shaped top that was laying a bit further away, bright green straw still stuck inside. There was ice scattered over the ground. She stared at it, wondering just what had happened, when she finally noticed that the wizard's mask was slightly askew. And no longer white. It was partially covered in a brownish liquid that dripped onto his black - and now wet on one side – robes.

Someone giggled and the Death Eater whirled to the right. Connie blinked. It was the two girls from in front of that American clothing store – she recognized the multi-coloured knitted hat. They were standing between the rows of abandoned cars. The one with the hat was standing with her feet apart and her hands crossed, while the other leaned against a silver Mazda and sipped from her drink.

"I can't believe you used your mocacchino as a weapon," the leaning one commented. She had dark, curly hair pulled back in a ponytail. The other girl shrugged.

"Hey, whatever works, right?" she said, surprising Connie with her American accent. "It's, like, creative slaying. Besides, it was either that or chuck a car at him. Mocacchino was easier."

"You bitch!" the wizard growled. "Crucio!"

Both girls lunged to the side, neatly avoiding the curse. The wizard stalked forward. He'd just reached the closest car when the girl with the hat suddenly vaulted over it, landing on the ground in the same beat that she then turned into a roundhouse kick that sent the man crashing into the car with a painful-sounding thunk. He crumbled to the ground.

Connie let out the breath she'd been holding. Slowly, she got to her feet and took a few shaky steps. The dark-haired girl had come out and was holding the wizard's wand, examining it carefully.

"Think we should break it?" she was asking.

"Nah, I think Willow would like the souvenir," the hat-girl answered. "Still, figures the day we actually go out shopping instead of wizard-hunting, we run into them."

"More like they drop in on us, but yeah, totally figures. Also, me forgetting my cell and yours being dead."

"Exactly. The universe is clearly against us."

Connie cleared her throat. The girls turned to her, the expressions on their faces showing surprise.

"I'm Connie Price," she began. "I, uh, just wanted to thank you. You saved my life."

The girls smiled.

"You're welcome," said the American.

"All in the job description," said the other one.

Connie frowned. Job description? Who the hell were these girls? They certainly didn't look military...

Suddenly, their heads both turned back towards the fighting. Connie followed their gaze and noticed there were new arrivals. More wizards, only these were wearing red robes and no masks. Her eyes widened.

"Oh, don't worry," the American said gently. Connie turned to her. "Those are the good-guy wizards."

"Good guy wizards, who erase people's memories, you mean," the dark-haired one said as she glared at them. Her eyes suddenly widened. "Hey look!" She pointed at one of them. "It's the bubble-gum hair chick from last time!"

"Oh, yeah, it is! Only she doesn't have bubblegum hair this time, more like smurf hair. And check out the old guy with the weird eye. Actually, it's kinda creepy."

"Shit! He's seen us!"

"Better go, before they decide to zap us again."

"Right!"

Try as she might, Connie could only make sense of half of what the two girls were saying. But they clearly knew quite a bit about the wizards. And had apparently really, really good eyesight, because Connie couldn't see anyone's faces properly from this distance, let alone tell if any of the men had strange eyes. Did she need glasses?

Just then the girls turned to her.

"Anyway, we gotta dash," said the dark-haired girl, turning back to her. "And you'd better get out of here too."

"Um, yeah, I will," Connie answered. As the girls began to run off, she suddenly realized something. "Wait!" They stopped and turned around. "What are your names?"

The girls exchanged glances and then shrugged.

"I'm Vi and this is Gwen," said the girl with the hat. And then, with a final wave, they both ran down the street, disappearing around the bend faster than Connie would've thought possible.

Connie looked back to see the battle had changed slightly as the dark-robed wizards were being fought spell-for-spell by the newly-arrived red-robed ones. She took her camera and made several photos. Then she turned it off and stuck it back into her pocket.

On a whim, she grabbed the mask off of the fallen dark wizard and stared at his perfectly normal, human face. He was just a man. She took one last look in the direction that the two girls had disappeared in, before darting across the street and into the Trocadero Centre. She prayed the tube was still running.

* * *

Author's Notes:

**RAB:** Yes, yes, I have in fact read the last book. And I had even guessed correctly as to who RAB was going to be... but this fic had been all planned out way before _Deathly Hallows_ came out. And after it did come out, I decided I still liked my version and wanted to do something different than the book. Also, with Harry and co. not residing at Gimmauld Place, it would've been a bit more awkward to get them to figure RAB's identity.

**Piccadilly Circus**: A famous road junction in the Westminster part of London. For the record, I've never actually been there. Also, for the record, Google Streetview is a GOD. Still, really sorry to any Londoners out there, since I may not have done a good job describing it. If I have gotten it right, then it's all thanks to **Biblios** (who, of all the 'small world' coincidences, used to live in London and went through Picadilly to work, which I didn't know until after I'd sent her the chapter). Her help with this part was absolutely pirceless!


	19. Chapter 18

Sorry for the wait guys! Hope everyone had a great summer (I think ours is officially gone now, what with the pouring rain and all that we've had for the past three days and all). Thanks to everyone, who reviewed the last chapter. Also thank you to** Biblios** for betaing this one.

Disclaimer: I only own a few minor details that come with the plot, but anything recognizable belongs to either J.K. or Joss.

* * *

**Prophecy of the Four**

**Chapter 18 –** Bloodless Sacrifice

The car flew across a particularly large pothole, jostling Harry out of his sleep. He blinked blearily out of the window, noticing it was daylight outside. Not that he could really see much out of any of the windows, since they'd all been spray-painted black with only slivers of scenery visible between lines of paint, but he distinctly remembered it being much darker out when he'd closed his eyes.

Harry adjusted his glasses and the world became instantly clearer – though it still didn't help see through the spray paint. He yawned and ran a hand through his hair as he stretched as much as the crowded back seat would allow. Beside him, he saw Hermione was still – or possibly once again - glaring blearily at the back of Spike's head – any good will she'd harboured towards the vampire had gone flying rather spectacularly out the window the moment she'd realized the car they were driving was hot-wired. Next to her, Ron was snoring soundly.

Harry frowned and looked back to the front seat as his mind caught up with his eyes.

"Shouldn't you be, uh, bursting into flames or something?" Harry asked Spike, feeling a bit creeped out over not being able to see him in the rear view mirror. "I mean, I thought the combination of vampire and broad daylight tended to end in flames..."

Spike snorted.

"'m not some weakling," he said. Just so long as the sunlight doesn't actually touch me, I'm good."

"Oh."

"Really?" Hermione perked up, her tired glare instantly replaced with a much more familiar expression. "So you ARE stronger than most vampires then, not just more infamous? Is that something that comes with age? Do vampires get stronger as they get older?"

"Bloody hell, she's worse than Red," Harry heard Spike mumble. Although, he certainly didn't seem all that annoyed as he began to explain all about his bloodline and reputation. Quite the opposite, in fact.

From the front passenger seat, Connor shot Spike an amused glance before returning to his magazine about hunting equipment. Harry tuned their conversation out in favour of staring out through the spray paint cracks and wondering for about the hundredth time just how long it would take his sanity to return to him. Because trusting the two people in the front seat of the car and their friends/comrades/allies back at Hogwarts (not to mention Malfoy – despite Remus's insistance that they could trust the snake, Harry wasn't quite convinced) had to be the craziest thing Harry and his friends had ever done. And that was really saying something.

Especially, since it had very quickly become clear that neither one of them actually knew where they were going. Harry could've sworn that since they'd left yesterday at sundown, they'd driven through half of England and stopped at most of the magical pubs (Spike seemed to be studiously avoiding all the wizarding ones, which is why they hadn't stopped in all of them).

After the first one, Hermione had insisted they stay by the car and let Spike and Connor to go in alone. They were less likely to die that way. Harry had found himself wishing they'd managed to find a way to take Remus up on his offer to accompany them and squeeze him into the car...

The car jostled around as it went over another hole in the road.

"Wha-? Yes, mum, I'll be right, uh-" Ron exclaimed as he jumped awake.

Spike snickered.

"Nope, sorry, luv, yer mum's not anywhere near 'ere," the vampire mocked. "Poor thing's likely making tea, calm and completely unaware of the heart attackk she's going to 'ave when she finds out her precious lil' boy is out gallivanting across the countryside with a big, bad vampire in a stolen car looking for an even bigger and badder warlock."

"Oi, don't talk about my mum that way!" Ron protested. Harry rolled his eyes. That was definitely one way to wake Ron up.

"Ron, don't start," Hermione piped up. She sent a glare in Spike's direction. "As horrible as he made it sound, Spike is right. We were lucky Moody and most of the aurors were called out to London, because there is no way they would've let us go otherwise. _I'm _still not convinced this was a good idea."

At this she turned to Harry and gave him a pointed look. Harry sighed. It was true, he'd been the one to convince Ron and Hermione to come along on this trip and at the moment. Though, surprisingly enough, Ron had been the most difficult one to convince.

"Look, they have more reason to want to hurt Voldemort than they have to help him," he said reasonably.

"The enemy of my enemy is my friend," quoted Connor without looking up from his magazine.

"And it's way more exciting than spending two days in a library," Spike added.

"Still, after spending so much time looking for her, I can't believe you just left Dawn behind," said Hermione, trying not to look like she was fishing for information.

She'd confided to both Harry and Ron before they'd left that she was convinced there was more to Dawn than met the eye. As far as Harry was concerned, Dawn's odd friendships spoke for themselves; anyone who somehow managed to befriend a notorious vampire was bound to be a bit strange.

Spike chuckled. "I'm pretty sure that between Blue and Big Red, she'll be just fine. And she's not exactly 'elpless herself either."

"And she's got Draco there for any weird wizardy things," Connor piped up.

"I don't trust Malfoy," Ron grumbled. "He's probably got her under some sort of enchantment and is using her as a shield to spy on us for You-Know-Who."

"She's not under an enchantment," said Connor. "I'd've smelt it."

Harry, Ron and Hermione exchanged bewildered looks. Magic had a scent?

"Don't you think Malfoy's been acting a bit strange?" Hermione asked suddenly. Harry blinked before looking at his friend. Hermione looked pensive, as though she was thinking out loud rather than asking a question.

"You mean he's been less obnoxious without Crabbe and Goyle around?" Ron asked.

"That too... but, there's more to it. I mean, he's been awfully tolerant of her, considering she's a Muggle and all – even if she is the one, who rescued him and _not_ the other way around like they first said."

"Powerful, teleporting demon definitely explains their escape from Malfoy Manor," Harry commented. Then he frowned. "But why would Malfoy need rescuing in the first place?"

"I don't know, but clearly something must've happened."

Harry thought back to the last time he'd seen Malfoy before the summer. It was still painful to think about what had happened on the tower, but he certainly had no trouble remembering it; every detail, every word that had been said, was ingrained in his mind.

"He only got the Dark Mark because of his parents," Harry said slowly. "Voldemort threatened to kill them if he didn't ki- didn't complete his mission."

"And Draco certainly did everything he could think of to save his parents," Hermione whispered, her eyes wide in horror.

"You don't think You-Know-Who...?" Ron began, looking slightly troubled.

Harry looked away from Ron. He didn't want to know the end of that sentence, didn't want a reason to sympathize with Malfoy – and yet, it would answer so many questions. It was then that he noticed the stillness of the two people in the front seat. Spike was looking at their reflections in the rear view mirror and Connor had, for the first time, actually looked up from his magazine and was eying them askance.

"You know," said Harry, not even bothering to phrase it as a question. Spike raised an eyebrow. "You know what happened."

"Yup," Connor answered and then turned back to his magazine.

There were a few moments of tense silence.

"So, are you going to tell us?" Ron demanded.

"Not our story-" Connor began.

"His mother," Spike interrupted quietly. Connor's head snapped up and he scowled at the vampire. "The kid went out on a raid and refused to kill some lil' brats, so Voldy forced 'im to watch as he killed 'is mother."

Hermione gasped. Harry froze as the pit of his stomach seemed to spontaneously turn to ice.

"I suppose that would be a good reason to want to run away with a Muggle," Ron squeaked quietly.

"Yeah," Harry agreed just as quietly.

* * *

Prime Minister Anthony Davidson looked out his office window, admiring the beautiful weather outside. It was truly a gorgeous day, the kind that makes most people restless in their stuffy suits and anxious to throw all responsibilities to the wind and drives their cars down to the nearest swimming hole. He allowed such mundane thoughts to flutter through his head and quickly reined them in the moment they threatened to turn to more serious matters. For instance, he found himself contemplating the tree outside his window, thinking how it was a rather fine tree and, if he were a bird, he would definitely want to live in such a tree.

It was utterly childish, he knew, but sitting at his desk stressing out about what was to come wasn't exactly productive either. Yesterday's incident at Piccadilly Circus could not be simply dismissed as damage control. It was a direct move against the Ministry of Magic's wishes and he highly doubted it would get treated as anything else.

Anthony didn't regret it. No. He refused to regret it. But the more he fretted over the inevitable confrontation, the more he began to feel like a child awaiting a scolding from its parent. He hated that feeling. He was the Prime Minister, for heaven's sake! And Rufus Scrimgeour was most definitely _not_ his mother!

The intercom on his desk buzzed and he felt momentarily grateful for the distraction (imagining his life as a pidgeon was getting a bit tedious).

"Yes?" he said, pressing the button on intercom device.

"The finance minister's on the line for you, sir," Kingley Shaklebolt's deep voice said over the line.

"Put him through, please."

Anthony felt relieved. This early in the morning it was highly unlikely that his friend was calling about anything purely business. The phone rang and he hit the speakerphone button.

"Good morning, Norman," he said.

"Good morning," his friend's voice said. "So, heard from the wizards yet?"

"No, not yet." He glanced at the portrait in the corner of his office, beside the fireplace. It was empty. "I imagine, they're trying to figure out just what to do with me."

He look to the newspaper sitting on his desk. The picture on the front page was much clearer this time. 'Battle in Central London', read the headline in the boldest print he'd seen since 9/11. The two-page coloured spread on the inside had even better pictures. And it told the story quite well. It also made him wonder just how long the public was going to believe the 'odd terrorist' line they were feeding them.

"Well, it is a pretty amazing article."

"Oh, it definitely is. Connie's just catching one break after another with these wizard stories."

"Hey, at least this one should bring the public back into your favour. Remind them why they decided to elect such a young Prime Minister in the first place."

"Which won't help me at all if the wizards decide I've become too much of a nuisance to deal with the normal way."

"Hang on, you- you don't really think they'd do anything... drastic, do you?"

Anthony shrugged, before realizing his friend couldn't see the gesture.

"I really don't know." He paused and took a deep breath. "Just make sure that if you come into my office later on and find a frog sitting on my desk, that you kiss it."

Laughter rang from the other end.

"It's a deal. And if my kiss doesn't work, I'll make sure to find some attractive young woman to kiss you instead. Just to warn you though, mate, you may have to marry her."

Anthony chuckled.

"Got it," he said.

His eyes once again wandered over to the portrait beside the fireplace just in time to see the man in it sit down.

"Shit," Anthony said, suddenly feeling faint. The finance minster stopped laughing.

"Anth-"

"They're coming."

He stared at the portrait and gulped. He steeled himself, wishing the next half hour or so was already over.

"Ehem, ehem," the man in the portrait cleared his throat. "Please stand by for the arrival of the Minister of Magic."

Anthony stood, trying desperately to ignore the whooshing in his ears. The fireplace roared to life and the flames turned blue. Three people stepped out. Fudge and Scrimgeour had brought a friend.

He was an older man with a grizzly, hardened face and a prosthetic eye – at least Anthony seriously hoped it was a prosthetic, because it was swirling in directions no human eye should ever be able to move in. He walked with a very pronounced limp and Anthony noticed one of his legs was also false. A magical war veteran, he guessed and then wondered whether the man was supposed to be the minister's bodyguard or simply added intimidation. The man frowned at him and Anthony quickly turned to Rufus Scrimgeour.

"Good morning, Minister Scrimgeour," he said, holding out his hand. "How do you do?"

Scrimgeour didn't bother acknowledging the offered hand. His eyes bore into Anthony's and his nostrils flared.

"How do I do?" he practically screeched. "Don't even try to pretend you don't know exactly why I'm here, Prime Minister. This is certainly no social call, I can assure you."

"You deliberately interfered in our affairs and risked exposing us!" Fudge added loudly.

"I think an attack on innocent civilians during peak morning rush hour in the middle of one of the busiest parts of the city centre did that better than we ever could," Anthony commented dryly. His hands were still sweating, but his head felt clearer than it had all morning.

"We could have handled it," Scrimgeour said, now in a much calmer voice.

"And how many people would have died in the meantime?"

Anthony looked at them each in turn, daring them to say those lives didn't matter, daring them to give him a reason to get truly angry.

"How did you know where they were going to attack?" came the sudden question from the grizzly magical war veteran.

Anthony blinked, the curiosity in the question catching him a bit off-guard.

"Oh, well, the Home Office already had a list of the most probable targets of terrorist attacks. We simply stationed undercover soldiers in the places with the largest potential for civilian casualties. Just like it said in the article."

"And the reporter?" Fudge demanded. "You see, we couldn't help but notice it was the same one as with the previous article."

"Pardon?" It took several moments to realize what Fudge meant by the question. Anthony let out a bark of laughter. "You think I planted Connie on the scene?" He chuckled. "No, no, as wonderfully as it's worked out for me, that was pure coincidence. She really was on her way to work."

"Yes, well, the article itself isn't actually the point at the moment – although, I do recall requesting that you notify us immediately should such a situation occur again," Scrimgeour said, not even attempting to hide the disapproval in his voice.

Anthony stiffened.

"You went above your authority," the Minister of Magic continued. "This war is in the Wizarding World and cannot be fought by Muggles. Without magic you are helpless. For you to so blatantly disregard our agreement to ensure our world's secrecy-"

"I assure you, I have done nothing to compromise your secrecy outside of what I felt I had to do as a leader to protect my citizens. Only a few select military officials know the whole story. Those soldiers went in practically blind. All they knew was that their mission was to use any means necessary to protect civilians."

"Yes, but if you hadn't done anything, like you should have, then we could've easily altered everyone's memories afterwards and no one would have to know anything!"

"Were you going to erase the memories of all the people those people called on their cellphones as well?" Anthony demanded. "And what about emergency dispatchers. London police counted twenty-nine calls talking about an attack in Piccadilly Circus. All those calls are recorded."

The wizards looked taken aback. Good.

"Of course, we have people, who regularly go and take care of that sort of thing," said Scrimgeour. "We're not completely ignorant about Muggles, you know."

"And yet you refuse to acknowledge us as equals," Anthony spat. There was that buzzing noise in his head again. Only this time, nerves had nothing to do with it.

"Well, naturally, we treat you differently," Scrimgeour dismissed his complaint. "You aren't the same as us at all; you haven't got any magic. Now, what You-Know-Who is doing is wrong, no one is suggesting otherwise. But we must must maintain the barriers that have kept our worlds apart for so long. It's for your protection as well as ours."

Anthony's eyes narrowed, but he swallowed his anger and forced his voice to remain calm and reasonable.

"Thirty-two civilians died yesterday," he said. "Over eighty were injured and of those at least fifteen were still on the critical list this morning. Ten soldiers died protecting them. Most of those deaths occurred during the 24.8 minutes it took your people to arrive on the scene. Without those soldiers the death count would've undoubtedly been higher. Now explain to me just how this secrecy is benefiting us."

Fudge and Scrimgeour had the decency to at least look a bit nervous. Apparently they weren't expecting to have the tables turned on them. The veteran was watching his superiors with an air of vague amusement.

"You must be reasonable," Fudge began. Anthony clenched his fists. "This isn't your war to fight."

"So those thirty-two deaths were what? Collateral damage?"

"They were unfortunate, but we can't be everywhere. Even magic has its limitations, after all- we can hardly predict where Death Eaters will strike next."

Anthony took a step forwards.

"Well, we did, apparently."

"Yes, but you shouldn't have!" Fudge exclaimed. "You clearly overstepped your authority!"

"How is is ensuring the safety of my citizens overstepping my authority?"

Anthony felt his clenched fists begin to shake from suppressed emotion. He took a deep breath. He was a politician, a professional; he had to remain calm, stay diplomatic, keep a cool head. _Think of the scandal, the international disapproval..._

"Mr. Davidson, while I appreciate your position, what happened yesterday has caused quite a lot of outrage within the Wizarding World. Many in our society are rightly worried about their safety. This morning's _Daily Prophet_ speculated about whether or not we'll be able to maintain our society the way it is for much longer. Yesterday's incident has only managed to confirm many wizard's fears about how violent Muggles are! I assure you, this is not helping the Ministry of Magic one bit-"

"So, you rather they think of us as weak and incompetent?" Anthony spat, seething. Dammit, he really needed to calm down. "Should we, instead, present ourselves as cowards, sheep to be herded, unable to defend themselves? We mere Muggles may not have magic, but that doesn't mean we're harmless!"

"Now, now, no one's suggesting that you're weak or cowardly at all," Scrimgeour said, clearly attempting – and failing – to placate him. "We're just asking you to stay out of what doesn't concern you."

_Think of the consequences, think of the consequences..._

"My people are dieing. How exactly does it not concern me?"

"It's not like there haven't been any wizard casualties," Fudge huffed. "In fact, we're much worse off than you lot are."

_Consequences, consequences..._

"Yes, but your people know what's going on and I'm sure every wizard has taken appropriate steps to ensure their and their family's safety."

"Well, of course they have, that's only natural," said Scrimgeour dismissively. "But they have the means to defend themselves, whereas Muggles don't."

"Oh, I don't know," Anthony said with a smirk. "According to the reports I read last night, our insignificant Muggle tactics worked pretty well. The sniper we had stationed on one of the rooftops took down about seven targets and none of the Death Eaters even thought to look for him. And the lieutenant in charge of the undercover forces noted that their enemies seemed awfully confused by their weapons, didn't seem to know you're supposed to run for cover when faced with a gun. I'd say the element of surprise worked for us rather well, don't you think?"

"It doesn't matter how effective your defense was this time!" Scrimgeour roared, diplomacy apparently forgotten. "You violated our laws by endangering the secrecy of the Wizarding World!"

Anthony took a deep breath and stomped down on his urge to throttle the man.

_Consequences, think of the consequences..._

Scrimgeour had apparently become secure in knowing he had everyone's attention and had launched into a lecture about the importance of complying with wizarding laws and maintaining the Statute of Secrecy. And then the world seemed to suddenly stop for half a millisecond as Anthony realized, in the midst of this preaching, that the man in front of him was the leader of a _secret society_ that the vast majority of the public – or more specifically, his electorate – _didn't know anything about_.

All it took was one more look at the self-righteous expression on Scrimgeour's face for Anthony to finally give into temptation.

The crunch of knuckles hitting face was the most satisfying sound he'd ever heard. And the way Srimgeour's head snapped to the side was simply beautiful. Out of the corner of his eye he vaguely noticed the veteran wizard take his wand out and point it at him, but he didn't care.

"Until I am voted out of office, _I _am the head of this country's government," Anthony said between pants (as he also wondered just why he was out of breath). "You, Minister Scrimgeour, are my ally, a fellow leader, but you have no authority over me or the government of Great Britain. _I_ am responsible for the welfare of this country and its people, to ensure their safety and prosperity. The only regret I have is not realizing what that meant sooner."

"Y-you, how-how dare you!" Fudge screeched at him after he'd made sure the Minister of Magic wasn't badly injured. Scrimgeour just stared at him, a stunned expression on his face, as though he couldn't quite believe what had just happened.

Honestly, Anthony himself could scarce believe it, though the throbbing in his knuckles certainly felt real enough.

"Get out of my office," he said, praying they'd leave before he lost all his anger-induced bravado.

That was when he heard the muted laughter.

"Don't worry, mate, I've got you covered!" Norman's voice cheerfully announced from behind him.

Anthony blinked and turned around. The little red light on the phone, which signaled that the speakerphone was in use, was on. Well, oops.

"You forgot to hang up, Tony, and I'm afraid curiosity was always going to be my downfall. I'm like a cat that way."

"What- who is that?" Scrimgeour demanded. Anthony bristled. No way was he going to give them his friend's name.

"Oh, hello there, Mr. Minister of Magic, Finance Minister Norman Callaghan here. Nice to meet you. Now, before you send someone to my office to erase my memories or turn me bald or something to that effect, you should probably know that I've recorded that entire conversation you just had. In fact, at this very moment, one of my assistants is taking a copy of said recording and mailing it to their boyfriend's sister, who works for a radio station. See, there's this note with it, to call me about it when it arrives and if I can't remember anything about it, they're to play on air and upload it to their website."

"Exactly how is that supposed to threaten us, Muggle?" Fudge demanded, although the wizard looked much paler than he had a few moments ago. "No one would believe it was true."

"Ah, well, that's true for about 85% of the population, yes. That 85% or so will undoubtedly dismiss it as a prank or a silly skit or what-have-you. But they're not who you should be concerned about. The ones you should be concerned about are the 5% that comprise of conspiracy-theorists and New Age thinkers, who are crazy enough to believe just because they can and the final 10%, who already know. See, if I understand correctly, you wizards haven't cut yourselves off completely from our mundane, non-magical world. I'm sure there are plenty of parents, siblings, friends and lovers out there and all it would take is a handful of them – maybe even just one or two – to hear it or hear of it. Word would spread from there through the technological wonders of the modern era. You, Minister, have just been caught on tape saying that your secrecy is more important to you than innocent civilian lives and that's pretty much the biggest political blunder any politician could ever make."

When Anthony turned back to the wizards, he saw Scrimgeour looking very, very pale, Fudge gaping like a fish, and the veteran with the strange eye looking oddly intrigued. Anthony came to the conclusion that the veteran didn't really like his superiors very much.

"C-can he really do that?" Scrimgeour asked faintly.

"Yes, of course he can," Anthony deadpanned. "It could be spread across the entire world in only a matter of hours if he wanted it to."

Privately, Anthony wondered just how much of the story was complete bullshit. As far as he knew, Norman's assistant was a middle-aged woman, who was married with two children and whose only brother had died of cancer three years ago. And could he really record a conversation and make a copy of it that fast?

Luckily, Anthony had a feeling Rufus Scrimgeour was even less technologically savvy than he was.

"That's rather impressive," the crazy-eyed wizard grunted, although he looked rather skeptical. "Can any Muggle do that?"

"Uh, well-" Anthony stumbled over the response.

"My twelve-year-old could have this posted on YouTube in less time than it would take him to get out his math homework!" Norman said with laughter.

Anthony chuckled. Norman's son despised math with a passion that was – in his words – 'hotter than the hottest part of the sun with fifty thousand furnaces on, times a billion'. He clearly hadn't inherited his father's genes.

"He would send the recording to a U tube?" Fudge asked with a confused frown. "Is that a place?"

"Yes, it's a site where people post – or, uh, put up – all sorts of pictures and videos they want to share with other people," Anthony explained, trying to keep it simple. "Other people watch it and then tell their friends about it and then they go watch it and talk about it, ecetera."

"For instance, you should see the collection of so-called terrorist clips out there," Norman added. "My cousin sent me the links to them. There's a few older ones on there as well, apparently, but at least ten new ones popped up since yesterday."

"But this is horrible!" Scrimgeour exclaimed. "We need to stop this!" He turned to the veteran. "Moody, I want the auror department on it right away. Find this U Tube place and take down all the Death Eater pictures."

"Yes, this could be horribly dangerous," Fudge added.

The crazy-eyed wizard rolled his eyes. "I'll assign someone to it right away," he answered. "What about the recorded conversation?"

"Insurance: as long as Anthony and I remain sound of mind, body, memory and hairline, it shall never see the light of day," said Norman, sounding more serious than he had throughout the entire conversation.

Anthony was sure he'd forgotten how to breathe as he waited for the wizard's answer.

"Very well, those are acceptable terms," Scrimgeour said. "However, should you play this recording to anyone else then-"

"You'll curse us and all of our children?" Anthony asked, not particularly caring to hear what it was he was about to be threatened with.

"Or something like it, yes," Scrimgeour said with a glare.

"Minister, we really should be getting back now," Fudge whispered to his colleague.

"Oh, don't worry, the _Prophet_ reporter can wait a few moments, surely," Scrimgeour waved him off. He cleared his throat and looked to Anthony (who happily noted how the left side of his face was starting to swell up slightly). "Well, we need to get going. I have an interview to conduct and a meeting to prepare for."

"Of course, Minister Scrimgeour, I won't keep you," said Anthony pleasantly.

The two leaders awkwardly shook hands and then the wizards left via the fireplace. Anthony waited until the wizard from the painting had left again before turning to face the telephone again.

"Norman," he said with a grin. "You know that I'm straight and I know that you're straight, but right now I could snog you senseless."

And then both men dissolved into laughter.

* * *

"Uh, Spike, I think you just passed it."

Tires screeched as Spike slammed hard on the brakes, making the wizards in the back seat lurch forward and the car behind them sound its horn loudly as it swerved to the right to avoid hitting them.

"What? When?" Spike demanded, looking over his shoulder and then cursing when he couldn't see properly due to the spray paint.

"Back there a bit," said Connor. "There was a statue of some sort of weird winged cat thing in between those trees."

"Why would someone raise a statue by the side of the road to mark their tomb?" Hermione asked. "Shouldn't we be looking for a cemetery?"

Spike didn't answer her and instead concentrated on driving backwards – to the sudden panic of everyone in the backseat. The car stopped with another screech of tires and Spike leaned over Connor to squint out the passenger side window.

"Yup, looks like this could be the place," the vampire said. "I've 'eard good ol' Roland had a thing for cats. Worshiped the Egyptian cat goddess what's-her-name even. Powerful, but a bit odd."

"Sounds like it," Ron mumbled under his breath.

Spike returned to his seat and swung the car around with another screech of tires (Harry was wondering whether the vampire was doing it on purpose or just didn't know how to drive any other way). Then the car lurched forward and Harry gripped the armrest on the door for dear life as the car bumped its way along whatever excuse for a road Spike was driving it down. Through his crack in the spray paint, Harry saw greenery – trees and shrubs, but little else. They were driving through a forest?

When car stopped, the sudden lack of bouncing took Harry by surprise at first. He blinked as he heard Connor undoing his seat belt. Spike threw open the door and dashed out. Connor opened his door at a much more leisurely pace and calmly got out. Harry exchanged looks with Ron and Hermione and then they too began unbuckling their seat belts. Harry cautiously opened the door and when nothing immediately jumped out at him, he opened it wider and stepped out. His limbs immediately thanked him, rusted as they were from the long car ride.

Outside, Connor was standing beside the car, observing the small clearing they'd found themselves in warily.

"This is it?" he asked and Harry thought the boy sounded a bit skeptical.

"Probably," Spike said from the shade of several large trees. He shrugged as he lit a cigarette. Harry couldn't help but wonder, once again, whether their willingness to trust these two was simply a sign of desperation. At this point he just hoped he at least lived to regret it if he was wrong...

As he looked around him, all he saw were trees, shrubs, a few stumps, fallen tree trunks – a forest plain and simple. The air was peaceful, silent, with a light breeze that brought with it the subtle scent of wild mushrooms and damp earth. Harry looked back the way they came and immediately saw why the ride had been so bumpy; the 'road' they'd come through the forest by was less of a road and more of a strip of partially-overgrown dirt framed by low bushes. He couldn't believe Spike had managed to recognize it as a path.

They were standing in a small, grass-covered clearing, where the 'path' they were following seemed to end. And they were the only signs of civilization of any kind.

"So, where exactly is this warlock of yours, exactly?" Hermione demanded, hands on her hips. "Because unless he's a magical squirrel, I don't see anything resembling a house."

"Maybe he's got a small hut or something further on," Harry suggested. Because, the only alternative was that Ron was right and this was a trap.

"We're looking for a crypt, guys, not a house," said Connor. "And you don't need a whole lot of room for those." He sniffed the air. "Besides, there's definitely something magical here."

"Yeah, probably traps against grave robbers," Spike added. He threw the butt of his cigarette to the ground and pressed it into the dirt with his heel. "Oi, Frizzy, you got the note with you?"

Hermione glared at the vampire. "My _name_ is Hermione," she said through clenched teeth. "And, yes, of course I have the note. Why-?"

"Then you can go first."

"No!" Ron exclaimed. He stepped forward, between Hermione and Spike. "What if something jumps out and tries to eat her? There is no way Hermione is going first."

"Don't worry, we'll be right behind her," said Connor. Then he grinned ferally and raised the battle ax Harry hadn't even noticed he'd been holding.

"Anything that tries to eat 'er will meet a sharp, pointy end," Spike added, unsheathing his own sword to illustrate. Harry shuddered at the expression of glee on his face, as if he was actively hoping something really did attack.

"I can assure each of you _men_ that I am fully capable of protecting myself," Hermione stated in a clear, even voice that told Harry she was dangerously close to being absolutely furious. In the corner of his eye, he noticed Ron flinch slightly.

"Well, we could always not protect you and let whatever demon, zombie or killer kitty that lurks around here have you for its midday snack," said Connor with a shrug. He then turned to Spike. "Her going first has something to do with that fancy magic script on the letter, right? Is it like a get out of jail free card or something?"

"Something like that, I think," Spike answered. "Either that, or the locket is. Hopefully he doesn't 'ave it keyed to Voldemort specifically."

"Oh, so you mean this warlock has wards set up and the letter is like a key that'll let us get past them without having to disarm them ourselves?" Hermione asked. Spike nodded. "Then why didn't you just say so?"

"Your boyfriend there didn't give me the chance to."

While Ron and Hermione turned red and sputtered, something occurred to Harry.

"How do you know all of this?" he asked Spike. "I thought you said you didn't know him very well."

Spike stopped grinning for a moment and shrugged. "I don't really, just guessing – educated guessing, you know."

"And if you're wrong?" Ron demanded.

"That's what the weapons are for," Spike answered with a wide grin.

"Unless it makes us explode," Connor pointed out.

"Unless it makes us explode," Spike agreed.

Harry's head was beginning to hurt.

"But there shouldn't be any exploding," Spike continued. "From what I've 'eard, ol' Roland liked people to appreciate his power."

"They always do," said Connor. "Tends to lead them to their downfall though, so I'm not complaining much."

"There is no way we're letting Hermione go anywhere she might explode, or get eaten or get turned into a purple, bat booger or anything!" Ron exclaimed.

The clearing was silent for several moments.

"Purple bat booger, mate?" Spike asked with an amused look.

"Man, these wizards sure are weird," Connor said as he snickered.

Ron's ears turned pink. Mustering all his remaining dignity, he turned around and stomped up to Hermione (all two steps of the way). He held out his hand.

"Give it to me," he demanded.

"Oh honestly, Ron, they're just trying to get a rise out of you," Hermione huffed in annoyance.

"Only partially," Spike interjected.

"I don't care." Ron's chin was set stubbornly and his eyes looked determined. Harry knew that look only too well. "All that matters is that the letter passes through the wards, doesn't matter who's carrying it, right?"

"Right," Spike agreed.

"So, I'll carry it and go first."

"Ron, don't be-"

"Hermione, please."

Hermione went silent. Ron's eyes still looked determined, but now they were pleading with her. As Harry watched his two friends communicate through their eyes, he felt jealous. He found himself wondering if he and Ginny would ever be able to do that. Whether they'd ever get the chance to learn.

Hermione broke the stalemate with a sigh. She reached into her pocket and handed Ron the folded-up note. Ron took it with a grateful nod.

"Now, if you kiddies are done with the teen dramatics," Spike drawled, "we've got a warlock to meet."

Harry walked up to his two friends.

"Hermione, Ron, you two ready?" he asked, looking at each of them in turn.

"As ready as I'll ever be," said Hermione with a nervous smile.

"Can't be scarier than the basilisk, right?" said Ron.

"Or Aragog," Harry added.

Ron paled, his face going blank. "This bloke's into cats," he said after a slight pause.

Hermione giggled.

"Right then, ladies first," Spike interrupted them as he motioned for Ron to lead the way into the forest.

Ron took a deep breath and then walked past Spike, hesitating only slightly before he stepped through the first line of trees. Spike and Connor hefted their weapons over their shoulders and followed, Harry and Hermione behind them.

For a while nothing happened. Harry was beginning to get annoyed, thinking all the dramatics about exploding or getting eaten had really been complete nonsense – in the end, Spike _had_ said he was only guessing. They might not even be in the right spot, or maybe this warlock didn't really exist in the first place...

Up ahead, Ron suddenly cried out in surprise.

"Ron?" Harry called to the redhead. "Are you alright?"

"Y-yeah, I-I'm just peachy," Ron called back, his voice much squeakier than usual, but definitely alive. Harry breathed a sigh of relief and took a step towards his friend.

"No sudden movements!" Spike hissed.

Harry froze. He looked to the side and met Hermione's eyes. She looked frightened. Just then, Connor and Spike moved with slow, but steady steps. Spike stepped up closer to Ron and Connor fell back so that he was closer to Harry and Hermione. They held their weapons in front of them, their muscles tense and looking ready to pounce into action. As they moved, their gazes never wavered from the front. Their shift in position gave Harry his first glimpse of what had startled Ron.

It was a very large tiger. Well, it almost looked like one, if not for the extra eye in the centre of its forehead and the two extra tails in back.

"What is it?" Hermione whispered to Connor.

"Welcoming committee," Connor whispered back. "Here to check our invitation, I think."

Sure enough, after a few minutes of standing before them, staring them down, the tiger silently walked forward, its tails swishing behind it. It stopped directly in front of Ron and sniffed at the hand, which held the note. Harry couldn't see Ron's face, but the redhead was barely moving. Spike placed a steadying hand on his shoulder and said something in a very low voice.. His eyes never left the tiger.

For the first time, Harry actually felt glad to have one of the world's most notorious vampires as his friend's bodyguard.

Apparently, Connor's guess had been right, because after a few thorough sniffs, the large monster cat stepped away from Ron and turned around. It looked over its shoulder before padding noiselessly away.

"Are we supposed to follow it?" Harry asked in a loud whisper.

"Looks like it," Spike answered as he began to do just that.

"Do you ever know anything for sure?" Hermione asked, exasperated.

"Nope, takes the fun out of it."

"Honestly," Hermione tutted as she rolled her eyes.

The tiger creature lead them through the forest, winding its way effortlessly through the trees. Harry had rather been hoping for a path to magically appear, but there was none – just tree branches and shrubs to avoid, roots to step over and bugs to swat away. The day was steadily reaching high noon and getting warmer by the minute. Harry could feel his robes starting to stick to his back despite the enchantments weaved into the material and wished he'd had the foresight to change into his much-cooler Muggle clothes. His only consolation was that Hermione was in the same situation.

Harry really, really hoped there was a horcrux at the end of this trek.

And then, the forest suddenly ended as though it had never been there. One moment there was nothing around him but trees and the next they were walking down – Harry shook his head to make sure he wasn't imagining things – a path made of yellow bricks.

"Weird sense of humour, check," he heard Connor say from where he was walking just up ahead of him. "Obvious cat obsession, double check. I think we've definitely found our guy."

Harry silently agreed with him. He decided this is what Mrs. Finch's garden would look like if the woman ever suddenly decided to forgo civilization in favour of a hermitage in the woods. The yellow brick road was lined with cat statues of various sizes, shapes and materials – Harry noticed a small, plastic cat standing on its hind legs wearing a top hat and holding a cane and there were also a few larger ones made of wood, some made of stone, a few made from marble and one even looked like it was jade with gold detailing. It looked like the haphazard collection had been assembled from random places across the world and then put on display in no particular order.

The path itself ran down the middle of a rather well-tended garden. The left side of the garden consisted of herbs and the right had an assortment of vegetables. The path itself ran all the way up to a little, mud-brick house. Two sphinx statues guarded the entrance.

"Huh, you're not melting," said Connor.

Harry looked over to him and saw him watching Spike. Sure enough, the vampire was standing in the sunlight, staring up at the sky, completely unharmed. As he walked past him, Harry noticed an expression of awe on his face.

"Must be really powerful magic to be able to block out the powers of the sun," Spike said absently.

"Is it just me, or does anyone else find it odd, that despite all the statues, there aren't any actual live cats around?" Hermione suddenly asked.

"They probably fell to natural selection," Connor answered.

"Natural what?" said Harry.

"He means the monster tiger pro'lly ate them," said Spike before snapping back into action and retaking his place beside Ron in what appeared to Harry to be several very quick strides.

Up ahead of them, a rumbling noise came from their guide as it tossed its head to the side. The tiger creature was still looking forward, but Harry could've sworn its strut now looked a bit smug. It led them up to the house before yawning loudly and laying down in the shade of one of the sphinxes.

Spike didn't even hesitate before reaching for the knocker on the door (a lion head with a large ring in its jaws), but before he managed to take hold of it, the door opened on its own. This made the vampire pause slightly, but then he simply shrugged and walked in.

The inside of the house was as dark and cluttered as the outside had been neat and well-tended. It smelt of incense and cat. Two pairs of glowing eyes watched them from atop a china cabinet and one from underneath a metal antique hatstand. All the doors they could see were closed save for one on the far right. A shadow appeared in the doorway and then disappeared. Spike and Connor followed it.

The room they entered looked to Harry like a small library, or perhaps a study. There was one, tall window on the far wall and a large desk made of dark wood standing in front of it. The rest of the walls were lined in tall bookshelves packed with books. A leather couch and armchair sat in the middle of the room, with a coffee table between them, made of the same dark wood as the desk with a single, massive crow leg holding it up. A large, grey cat was laying curled up on top of it, warming itself in a patch of sunlight from the window.

"Well, you're certainly not who I'd expected to arrive with that particular invitation," said a surprisingly young voice.

"Yeah, and we were kinda expecting you to be a bit, er, taller or something too," Connor replied.

It was now that Harry noticed the other person in the room. He was watching them all calmly from where he sat on top of the desk, leaning back a bit on his hands, feet dangling in the air. Harry blinked. The child looked no older than thirteen with pale skin and a full head of dark black curls. He was wearing black trousers and a slightly puffy white shirt that looked like silk. A single, long earring dangled from his left ear (Harry thought it looked like it could be a ruin or hieroglyph of some sort, but he didn't actually recognize it).

"Uh, we're looking for Roland Algeron Belfar's tomb," Harry said uncertainly.

The boy looked at him with a blank expression. "I_ am_ Roland Algeron Belfar," he said firmly.

"But, wasn't Belfar supposed to be-" Hermione began.

"Oh! I know!" Ron interrupted, clearly excited to have a theory before Hermione. "Maybe he's a metamorphmagus like Tonks."

That, Harry had to agree, did make some sense. Though if the warlock wanted to make himself look younger, wasn't this a bit too young? Plus, he was supposed to be dead, right? The boy sighed.

"Yes, alright, since we're clearly incapable of moving past this, allow me to explain." He silenced any more comments with a glare – and Harry realized that intense, self-assured arrogance in his eyes didn't look like that of a child.

"Since you have the locket I substituted for Tom Riddle's soul fragment, I assume you know how it was guarded." He paused and waited for their response. Harry nodded absently, an image of Dumbledore's face as he drank from the enchanted goblet flashed through his mind. He swallowed around a lump in his throat.

"Nope, I don't," Spike said with a shrug. "I just figured out the whole message part."

"Does it matter?" Connor asked.

"Not particularly," the boy-warlock shrugged. "Only inasmuch as in order to retrieve it, one had to essentially ingest a hallucinogenic poison. Any mere human would've likely perished shortly afterwards. I, however, am not human. I was weakened while my magic fought the cursed substance, but did not die. This weakness combined with grief over the death of my precious Ophelia made me vulnerable and slightly careless."

Here, the boy/man/non-human paused and reached over to the corner of the desk, where a long-haired black cat sat regally on a velvet cushion. The cat held completely still as he stroked it lovingly.

"I just had a crazy and kinda scary thought," Connor muttered.

"I think it's probably the same one I just had," Spike muttered back.

"An old enemy of mine took advantage of my vulnerability," Belfar continued after a moment, his eyes still on the cat. "I managed to fight her off with some ingenious quick thinking, however the damage she inflicted combined with the effects of the poison threatened my existence. Taking the body of this boy, while my physical body slowly recovers, was the only way to save myself. I allowed the rumours about my death to circulate in the hopes that Riddle would one day here them. Clearly, that was a useless effort on my part."

Harry mentally went over the explanation he'd just been given, unable to believe what he thought he was hearing.

"Y-you stole a child's body in order to save yourself?" Hermione exclaimed, looking outraged. "Is he dead?"

The warlock raised an eyebrow at her.

"I believe the medical term is 'brain-dead'. The force of my soul and magic bursting into his unprepared body sent him into a coma. Technically speaking, his organs are functioning normally and his soul is suppressed, but here, therefore he is alive. However, his higher brain functions and nervous system are, to put it simply, fried."

"That's horrible!" Ron exclaimed.

"How could you do that?" Hermione added.

Belfar shrugged. "I've killed people in worse ways before."

"Then you're no better than Voldemort," Harry stated, his wand was already in his hand. He gripped it tightly in an attempt to stop his hands from shaking in fury. He'd seen inferi and dementors, but this-this monster was worse than either of them. He was using the boy's mouth to speak; Harry was staring the warlock's victim in the eyes, except that they weren't really the boy's eyes.

"You're evil," Harry spat.

"Silence, children," the warlock hissed through the boy's mouth. The eyes now looked cold and malicious, any attempt at pleasantness apparently forgotten. "I never claimed to be anything and certainly not a saint. May I remind you that you've come to me, not the other way around. And not only that, but you've arrived in the company of one of the most vicious vampires the past three centuries have produced. I don't suppose you've bothered to ask him how many people he's killed? Tortured? Just because you haven't witnessed his atrocities, doesn't mean they didn't happen. I am merely the enemy of your enemy, nothing more and nothing less."

As silence fell upon the library, the cat that had been curled up on the coffee table woke up with a wide yawn and a deep stretch. Then it hopped off the table and trotted up to the desk, jumping up onto the boy's lap, where it proceeded to make itself comfortable. The warlock immediately began scratching it behind the ears. Soon the library was filled with soft purring.

"So, if you're the enemy of our enemy, does that make you our friend?" Spike asked eventually.

Harry's head snapped to the vampire, outraged at the suggestion. How dare he suggest they be friends with... Suddenly, he realized that neither Spike nor Connor seemed surprised by the warlock's revelation and seemed completely unfazed by the boy's body.

"You two don't care, do you?" he said darkly.

Spike rolled his eyes and muttered something under his breath. Harry didn't think, he raised his wand. Afterwards, he'd realize he couldn't remember, who, exactly, he'd planned on pointing it at. He never got the chance to find out, because no sooner had he moved, his hand was gripped tightly and pushed down, so that the tip of his wand pointed at the corner of the room.

Harry met Connor's eyes, startled by the movement he hadn't seen. He saw the barely suppressed anger in them covered over by a serious determination.

"Why are you here?" he asked Harry in a steady voice.

"I'm here, because you dragged us here," Harry seethed at him, desperately trying to break free of the boy's grip and realizing for the first time what it had meant when they'd said he was part-vampire.

"And why did you let us drag you here?" Connor asked again as annoyance flashed through his eyes. He squeezed Harry's wrist, making him wince.

"To find a horcrux," Hermione answered for him quietly. Harry stilled.

"And why are you after the horcrux?" Spike piped in.

"So that we can defeat Voldemort."

Even as the words left his mouth, Harry suddenly understood what the two supernaturals were trying to tell him and he looked away from Connor and the sympathy he now saw in his eyes. He didn't want to – Merlin, how he wished he could claim what they were implying didn't make sense. That monster sitting calmly on top of the desk had killed a child in order to save himself, he even admitted to killing others. He was probably no better than Voldemort.

"'s about picking your fights, mate," Spike said calmly. Harry looked to him. "There's a lot of evil in the world. No one can fight it all at once."

"Save your energy for the one you're really after," Connor added. "The one you already know how to kill."

Harry slumped in defeat and Connor finally let go of his wrist and stepped away. He nearly jumped in surprise as another hand gripped his shoulder gently, but he instinctively knew it was Hermione. He looked up at her. She was tense and tears of frustration shone in her eyes. He smiled thinly and put his left hand over hers and squeezed it in thanks.

Then he looked to Ron. Ron was glaring over at the boy-warlock. His wand was in his hand and he was squeezing it so hard his knuckles were white, but the rest of his posture was slumped over. When he felt Harry's eyes on him, he looked over. Despite his obvious anger, he still managed to smile weakly at Harry and Harry felt relieved that his friend wasn't angry with him and the decision he knew he had to make.

"Why have you children set out to kill Voldemort anyway?" Belfar suddenly broke the silence.

"Because he's evil," Harry answered automatically, the question surprising him. "He killed my parents and a lot of other people and his followers have killed and-"

"Spare me the sentimentalities," Befar waved away the rest of his argument. "Revenge is all the answer I need. I don't care about the others; I have no interest in heroes or bleeding hearts."

He paused and Harry noticed that he looked amused.

"I must say I found your little argument there most entertaining. Perhaps you truly are capable of defeating Tom Riddle. Perhaps you will fail. However, since it has become painfully clear that my own lure has failed, I will relieve Ophelia of her burden."

Belfar picked up the cat in his lap and placed it on the desk beside him. The cat meowed in protest, fluffing itself out in annoyance. He ignored it and hopped down off the desk. Then he reached up and put his small arms around the neck of the other cat, still regally perched on his desk. The cat remained completely still – so still, in fact, that Harry realized that, despite its appearance, there was no way it could possibly be a living creature. The boy fiddled with something behind its neck and then turned around.

With a gasp, Harry saw he was holding a locket.

"Th-that's Ophelia?" Hermione asked, her eyes wide in something that very closely resembled horror. She hadn't even noticed the locket yet.

"Yes, this is my precious Ophelia," Belfar answered. The expression in his eyes became gentle as he petted her. "She was my favourite. I took her vacationing with me to Bath and she wandered off. Death Eaters attacked and by the time I'd found her, she'd been struck down."

Harry stared at the cat. No, the _stuffed_ cat. He shook his head and decided not to even attempt to understand the situation. He had been forewarned that the warlock was a bit, uh, eccentric, after all. He turned his attention back to the locket.

"Consider this a bonus," the warlock said, letting the locket fall until he was only holding it by the end of its chain, letting it dangled in the air. Then he began to chat in a language Harry didn't understand, except to know it certainly wasn't any wizarding spell he was casting.

The locket began to glow red. Then, it caught fire. At first the flames burned yellow gold, but slowly they began to change to a deep red and then darken further until the locket was encased in black flames. A shrill scream sounded from within and then the flames began to die out.

In the end, all that remained was a blackened, slightly dented locket. The boy threw it at Harry, who caught it easily. It was cool to the touch.

"I will have my pets escort you back to your car," he said.

"Thanks," said Spike and then the vampire turned to leave.

Harry was the last to leave the room, but just as he was about to cross the threshold, he was stopped.

"Mr. Potter," the warlock called out to him. Harry half-turned to look back at him. "Don't fail."

Harry nodded. "I can't afford to."

The warlock grinned and Harry left. They began the drive back to Hogwarts in complete silence.

* * *

Lady Zhur made sure to slouch and lean on her cane a bit more than usual, adding a slight limp to her step just for the heck of it as she crossed the threshold of Malfoy Manor. She was wearing her blood red cloak over top of black robes and her long, limp hair had been combed. Today, she needed to look important, whilst not quite revealing the full extend of her powers.

Beside her, Lord Belzak seemed to glide along - his demonic nature allowed him to keep pace with ease. With the hood of his long, black cape obscuring his facial features from view, Lady Zhur was sure the wizards around them, including their guide, were mistaking the demon lord for a child, perhaps her apprentice even. The thought made her chuckle and lifted her mood slightly from where it had sunk to since being woken up from her late afternoon nap by one of Dermain's bird golems.

Dermain's messages was simple: another horcrux had been destroyed. Only this one was far more unsettling than the last; Roland Algeron Belfar's 'tomb' was not something a couple of mere children should've been able to find no matter what resources Hogwarts provided them with. That meant that either Harry Potter had help or someone else was hunting horcruxes.

The two-hour long conference call that followed only served to annoy Lady Zhur even more. She hated conference calling – if she were being completely honest, she just didn't like telephones in general. Conference calling simply came with added 'perks'. Lord Belzak, for instance, had yet to figure out how to set the volume control on his phone properly and so his voice was either booming over everyone else's as he yelled at everyone to tone it down, or else it was so whisper-quiet that one one could barely understand what he was saying. And Master MacNab always managed to somehow seem flightier and babbled much more over the phone (although, Lady Zhur admitted that quite possibly this was due to her not being in the mage's physical presence to be able to strangle him should she be so inclined).

In the end, they decided to move sooner than expected and meet with Voldemort. Dermain – rather predictably – found some excuse to not be able to come and Master MacNab was forbidden from coming (they needed the dark wizard to take them seriously, after all) and so it was just her and Lord Belzak.

And so here they were, being led through Malfoy Manor by Constantine LeBeau (who had been only too happy to hear she and her colleagues wanted to lend their powers to the Dark Lord). As he lead them through the grand main hall, Lady Zhur took note of the decor and found herself quite liking the snake and dragon motifs she saw. She could've done without the ridiculous marble floors and would've burned the useless portraits staring down at her, but she liked the snakes and dragons.

LeBeau knocked on the double doors and they opened a crack. Lady Zhur saw a pair of beady eyes glance out briefly, before the doors swung open.

"The Dark Lord has been expecting you," a high-pitched, snively voice said.

As the they stepped into the magnificent ballroom, Lady Zhur caught a faint whiff of rat, but paid it no heed. Rodents were beneath her notice, whether animal or human. The walls were covered in intricate murals of flying dragons, which, in typical wizard fashion, actually flew within their painted world. Lady Zhur had to admit the sight was truly marvelous, even as she found herself disgusted with the horrible waste of powerful magicks.

She paid no more heed to the room and brought her attention to the main attraction.

Lord Voldemort sat on a black, high-backed chair that fell only a hair's length from being a throne. Its legs ended in clawed feet and carved snakes slithered up the back legs, two hissing heads peered over the top of the Dark Lord's head, watching. The man, himself, watched them with barely-disguised interest as they walked towards him. His body showed clear signs of the ravages done by pro-longed use of dark magic as well as the voluntary splintering of his soul. Lady Zhur could see the taint in his aura clearly; to her it was a more obvious sign than his inhuman features. It was as though his entire body was a curse, a perfect specimen of decayed humanity.

She thought it was beautiful.

"My lord, I have brought the hag and her colleague," LeBeau said once they stood before his master.

He bowed down low and Lady Zhur raised an amused eyebrow at being called simply 'the hag'.

"Her colleague?" Voldemort inquired politely – with just a hint of steel, meaning LeBeau hadn't mentioned he was bringing more than one person. Which was only natural, since Lady Zhur hadn't told him there'd be anyone else.

But, as amusing as it was to watch LeBeau attempt to hide his nervousness, she had no interest in petty human dramatics, so she stepped forward.

"My Lord," she began with a low bow, "I am Lady Zhur. And I do apologize for the miscommunication. I had not informed Mr. LeBeau that anyone would be accompanying me, which is why he could not inform you of it. I have long been a sideline supporter of your cause, however have not been – until now – in any position to offer any significant help. The trinkets I sent you through your follower were mere tokens until I could convince my colleagues to lend their support as well."

Lady Zhur straightened herself and looked at the wizard, waiting for his response.

"Your tokens were well-received, Lady Zhur" Voldemort eventually said after a pregnant pause. He was clearly skeptical, but that was to be expected – he wasn't a fool, after all. "And I welcome you into our midst. Tell me, who are these colleagues of yours and exactly is it that you think they will bring to my cause?"

"We are the Circle of the Black Thorne," a deep voice boomed through the room and Lady Zhur didn't even need to look beside her to know that Lord Belzak had removed his hood. The gasps coming from all around them were indicators enough.

Voldemort's eyes widened. Surprise soon changed to excitement - and greed.

"The Circle of the Black Thorne, you say?" he said. "While he was recruiting in America, one of my inner circle encountered a demon, who mentioned the Circle of the Black Thorne. However, we were unable to find any information about such an organization."

"Of course not," Lord Belzak scoffed, folding his arms imperiously across his chest. "Our order has been moving in the shadows for millenia. Only those in the shadows hear whispers of us and only those, who are completely swallowed by the darkest of them ever join. We are not something any human, wizard or otherwise, let alone your pathetic ministry could've heard of."

"We also do not usually make contact with outsiders as a group," Lady Zhur added.

"Then why have you?" Voldemort inquired.

"Because we have reason to believe you will win," Lord Belzak stated simply. "We are willing to lend our aid towards the victory of dark magics."

Voldemort frowned.

"Your confidence flatters me, but I don't think you're referring merely to my power."

The demand for explanation was plain. Lady Zhur allowed herself a slight smirk.

"Tell me, Dark Lord, have you studied much divinations?" she asked. "Or more specifically, the older prophecies?"

"I have studied some divinations. How old do you mean?"

"The Sandstone Prophecies."

Voldemort raised a hairless eyebrow.

"Prophecies written on sandstone and then destroyed because our ancestors believed that if they had a physical form, they would come to pass?" Lady Zhur nodded. "Yes, I've read of them, why?"

"Because not all of them were completely forgotten after being destroyed. There were a few... shall we say, groups of individuals, who copied down and collected those prophecies. As a result, not all of them are as lost as history says they are."

"That is rather fascinating-" And to his credit, the dark wizard really did appear mildly interested. "-but what exactly does that have to do with me?"

"Because, one of the ones that had been recorded and kept was said to have been originally carved by the great Mycenaean wizard, Neleus, an advisor, astronomer and prophet to the king. We believe it pertains to you and this wizarding war."

A stunned silence followed. Not one sound echoed off the impressively acoustic walls of the ballroom. Lady Zhur let the silence linger for a few moments, before she began to recite.

"In seven days created, in two shall be destroyed,

Three Ancient Ones gather: one forgotten, one found and one restored,

Two worlds meet and warriors must rise,

The Three are joined by a Fourth, who alone the tale can tell.

Blindness gives sight; insanity, wisdom

- to see when black is white and white is black.

The Snake is not the king of beasts,

but the Lion cannot win."

The room erupted in hushed whispers, the final two lines of the prophecy clearly having had the greatest impact. The air became charged with excitement. The Dark Lord Voldemort grinned.

"It is pretty poetry, but how do you know it is indeed referring to this war?"

"Because Old Ones are indeed gathering," Lord Belzak answered. "The former demon god Illyria was raised by the remnants of her followers in the United States just last year. Her strength is greatly crippled, but there is no denying her identity. And one of our colleagues has been monitoring magical surges across the country and believes he has identified at least one more."

"Angela," Lady Zhur heard Voldemort mutter under his breath, but she didn't ask. It probably didn't matter for the moment. But she filed the name away for later in the discussion.

"Well, since you bring me news that the Lion cannot win, then I welcome you into my ranks. However, I still wish to hear what you, who come from the 'darkest shadows' propose to bring to our cause?"

"We could start by ridding you of an annoyance," said Lady Zhur.

Voldemort frowned. "Which one?"

"The Muggle prime minister," Lord Belzak replied. "I can easily send my minions out to dispose of him. Now that he has grown tired of following meekly behind the Ministry of Magic, he is becoming quite the nuisance."

Which was true, Lady Zhur reflected. They had hoped to deal with him more discretely, but since the chances of such a scheme succeeding were growing slimmer with each incident, the four of them had decided they may as well take advantage of an unfortunate situation and use it to help their standing with Voldemort.

"You're right, that one is becoming quite the annoyance," Voldemort agreed. "Although, I admit it is rather amusing that he is handling the situation better than those bumbling fools at the ministry. I lost fifteen followers during that attack yesterday, mostly thanks to the Muggle army. And his death would no doubt send those stupid Muggles into chaos. I'll enjoy that."

Lady Zhur and Lord Belzak bowed.

"Then, my lord, we shall waste no time," said Lady Zhur.

Lord Voldemort nodded his approval. Striking down such a high-positioned Muggle was a bold move, but it would deal a severe blow to both the Muggle and Wizarding Ministries.

He looked down at his new allies as he reached over to pet Nagini. He knew full well they hadn't told him everything they knew. And he couldn't be sure the prophecy they'd given was even real, however, he would question its validity later – a prophecy saying they were going to win was good for morale.

He didn't need to trust his allies, just know how to use them, after all. Nagini hissed contentedly as he stroked its head. Yes, the Lion definitely would not win.

The night was dark and stormy. From inside one of the castle's towers, Illyria watched as the wind whipped through the trees on the outskirts of the forest. There was no thunder or lightening, yet the night sounded angry, the wind foreboding, as though mirroring the turbulent times that were fast approaching. And the once-demon king had seen many a turbulent time. She could smell the upcoming battle. Her blood yearned for it.

To her right, she noticed a door. Through it, she stepped outside, onto the tower's battlements. In war-time, the ledge would've been used to launch arrows or, perhaps spells, into an enemy's army, but now it held two rows of neatly arranged telescopes. Illyria walked between the rows, as uninterested in them as she'd been in the star maps in the previous room, but feeling an echo of Winifred Burkle from within begging her to be careful around the delicate instruments.

The wind and rain did not touch the battlement. Illyria snorted at the magical bubble that encased it. Humans were pathetic, she thought, fearing even the weaker forms of the elements as they did. She desired to feel the wind, to taste its wildness.

She felt the presence approaching, but didn't turn to greet it. She recognized it, just as surely as it had no doubt recognized her. It was during that first brief moment in the library, when time had stopped for just a few moments (Illyria had been pleased that not all her former powers had deserted her) and the two warriors had silently agreed to let the humans and half-breeds have their say first. They two could wait; this world was no longer theirs, but time was.

The presence behind her changed once more as Azazella shifted from her human guise and became a warrior. Illyria turned to face her.

"You wear Vulca's colours," she said without preamble.

The other demon answered her with a curt nod.

"I was a mere soldier when Vulca and Pyreia defeated you, Illyria," she said. "Centuries later, I became his general."

Hearing the names of the two demon god kings, who had defeated her, felt like hot pokers being driven into her pride. But Illyria remained impassive. It was she, who was standing here now, not them. They were still sleeping.

"How did our world fall?" she asked instead.

"The Powers from Beyond chose the humans and gave them the Slayer and the knowledge to fight us." She paused. "Many of our soldiers fell before I killed the Slayer. But another rose. Humans were weak, so we'd ignored them and trampled on them. Before we'd realized they were many. Too many. The Prophet told us to flee, to run to other worlds, or we would die in this one."

"The Prophet?"

"Yes, the Nameless One. It was she, who commanded that I alone should stay here, in this world, because one day I would find a purpose."

Illyria crossed her arms in front of her and narrowed her eyes as she looked up Azazella.

"This shell my acolytes chose was too weak to contain my vast powers. The human, Wesley, had to seal them outside this dimension. Yours are not sealed. Why? Or were you so weak that the human shell you chose was enough?"

Azazella stiffened.

"After my brethren abandoned this world, I hid myself and searched for an appropriate shell. I found this woman tending to a field and sensed the power that lay dormant within her. I spent six years preparing her body before I devoured her soul and took its place. It is your shell that is weak, not my powers."

The last sentence was said with a hint of defiance, but Illyria could not argue with it. After all, she herself had said many times that her acolytes had chosen poorly when they had picked Winifred Burkle. So, instead she did what she'd often seen the humans do when faced with a topic they did not wish to pursue: she changed the subject.

"The half-breed, Spike's, friends found a prophecy naming four ancients. You are one, I assume?"

"Yes. And you a second. The girl is the third and the prophet should be the fourth, if she is still here."

"I think she is."

"Good, because without her we are as blind in mind as she is in sight."

Illyria nodded, mulling over what she'd just learned. She didn't need to ask which girl, because she was pretty sure she already knew. The slight breeze of power was unmistakable.

"Do you know what is to happen? This prophecy is more vague than is usual."

Azazella shook her head.

"I do not. However, I also do not I believe in co-incidences."

Illyria's eyes met Azazella's. She simply nodded. Words weren't necessary to state the obvious. She turned away from her fellow Old One to watch the wind once more.

"Then we shall have to observe for now to see which way the muck shifts."

* * *

Thanks for reading! Now please review!

Author's Notes:

**The great Mycenaean wizard, Neleus** – Yup, totally made him up. Mycenae was one of the centres of civilization and military might in Ancient Greece during the Bronze Age (according to Wikipediea).

**Vulca/Pyreia** – Joss Wheadon has never really given us a whole lot of background on the Old Ones, so I've taken some artistic license here to make some up. Out of curiosity, since Illyria is the name of a kingdom that used to exist on the Balkan peninsula (we're talking Ancient Greece here, by the way), I decided to name one of the other god kings Pyreia after the Pyrenees peninsula.


	20. Chapter 19

Gods, writing parts of this chapter felt like pulling teeth. As in, I knew what I wanted to write, but couldn't quite get it to flow properly. However, in the end I think it was well worth it. So, therefore, without anymore preamble: here's the next installment!

As always, thank you to my beta **Biblioseros **for her help and input into this chapter!

Disclaimer: I don't own anything that belongs to either Joss or JK.

* * *

**Prophecy of the Four**

**Chapter 19 – **The End of Fun and Games

The wind had finally managed to chase away the last of the rain clouds that had plagued Hogwarts since the night before – only a few dark clouds still lingered over the Forbidden Forest, the storm somehow unwilling to leave completely. The school's grounds were now bathed in bright sunlight, though dampness from the rain still remained. Birds and insects were slowly beginning to come out from the nooks and crannies they'd disappeared to when the storm hit.

The castle itself had weathered the storm well, its strong foundations unmoved by the fury of nature's elements. Inside, it was now quieter, calmer and a little brighter as light streamed in through every window and crevice it could find. The entrance hall was graveyard silent and void of life; the only movement coming from flickering flames of the torches along the walls and the long shadows they cast. The only exception was a single sliver of sunlight that was sneaking into the castle through a crack underneath the grand oak doors.

And then the calm was broken as those doors swung open, bathing the hall in sunlight and letting in a gaggle of assorted noisy, excited and damp figures in travel cloaks.

"Ah, and here we are then, back again!" one voice exclaimed above the rest.

"Let a new year of taming rambunctious hellions and beating useful information into their sap-sodden brains begin!" exclaimed another.

All present turned their heads in amusement at the grinning duo of Professors Sprout and Hooch.

"Really, Rolanda, they're not that bad," Professor Flitzwick admonished her. "At least not most of them, anyway."

"By October you'll no longer be saying that, mark my word," Professor Hooch answered with a snort.

"Perhaps, but I believe one should begin with a fresh, clean slate."

"It's why we have summer holidays," stated Professor McGonagal. "So we can recuperate and not go completely batty."

"Or strangle one of the little buggers," Professor Hooch added.

"Then thank Merlin for summer holidays," said Professor Sprout with a wide grin as the rest of the professors laughed.

"Here, here!"

"Ah, my esteemed colleagues!" an airy, dramatic voice exclaimed, prompting several groans from the crowd of professors, as Professor Trelwany breezed into the entrance hall in a jingle of jewelry and a flutter of shawls. "I knew you would be arriving at this hour!"

"We always arrive on the exact same train on the seventeenth of August, have been for years," said Professor Hooch as she rolled her eyes. "It's not exactly rocket science."

"Rocket science?" Professor Sinistra asked. "Whatever is that?"

The flying instructor looked thoughtful for a moment.

"You know, I'm not even sure. One of my Muggle-born students last year used that expression a lot. I suppose it just sort of stuck with me."

Professor Flitzwick chuckled. "You know, it's the students that are supposed to be picking things up from us, not the other way around."

Hooch made a face, but whatever she was going to say to the teasing accusation was lost when Professor Trelwany let out a loud, agonizing wail.

"Oh, Professor McGonagal, I am at my wit's end!" the divinations professor exclaimed as she grabbed the deputy headmistress by the arm, her teary eyes boring into the other woman's. "The stars are being so confusing! Something is coming, something important – or perhaps it is a someone – and it will change everything, but I cannot find how or when or what it will change. They speak of a destroyer approaching and a dragon rising and a prophet to be wary of and of a queen - yes, always a queen. The queen is important and powerful and she is a part of the change, or perhaps even the leader of it. Or she might represent the change. Aaah!"

Here Trelwany abruptly let go of McGonagal's hand turned away to begin pacing frantically. The assembled professors stared after her in silence, too stunned by their colleague's behaivour to do little else.

"Weeks have I spend pouring over the riddles of the stars and during that time they have barely changed. Every night I've gazed up at the skies, hoping to find something more uncovered, a new tidbit of information to gleam, but there is nothing!"

"Perhaps you should not rely so completely on the stars!" a strong, male voice called from the opposite side of the entrance hall. Gentle clip-klops on stone identified the source of the voice even before they turned to face him.

"Whatever do you mean?" Professor Trelwany asked, looking at the centaur with a perplexed expression.

Firenze smiled warmly.

"It was something Ron Weasley had said a few weeks ago. Young Harry had apparently ventured into Hogsmeade several weeks ago and encountered someone, who told him that stars are fickle, that they tell only half-truths, hiding the other half behind clouds." He paused for a moment, a distant look in his eyes. "I have thought upon those words and, like you, have spent time gazing at the stars. I believe that might just be true."

"Yes... that would make sense. Only half the truth, half the story... th-that is what it seems to be, yes." Professor Trelwany's eyes were wide with wonder, as though the centaur had just revealed one of the great secrets of the universe to her.

Professor McGonagal cleared her throat. Firenze blinked a few times and then turned his attention to the deputy headmistress.

"I do apologize," he said with a smile. "Welcome back professors."

"Thank you, Professor Firenze," McGonagal said primly. "It's good to be back. How has your summer been?"

"Surprisingly eventful. Which reminds me, the house elves had wanted me to ask you if you could possibly do something about the demons in the library. They are terrified of them and refuse to go anywhere near them, yet are equally terrified of not being able to clean the library... House elves are such strange creatures, they truly are."

Several moments passed in complete silence, during which the entire staff stared at the centaur as though he'd just grown sparkley pink wings. He, for his part, remained completely oblivious to their bewilderment. This made them wonder whether it was a joke, until they realized centaurs weren't exactly known to have humorous sides... and house elves definitely didn't jest. Which meant, they'd most likely misheard what was being said.

"I'm sorry, Professor Firenze," Professor McGonagal began. "Could you repeat that, please? I could've sworn you said there were _demons_ in the library. I know I've allowed Misters Potter and Weasley along with Miss Granger to spend the summer at Hogwarts, but surely calling them demons is a bit much-"

"If those three have done anything to my library-" said Madame Pince from the back of the cluster, her expression thunderous.

"Pardon me, I did not in any way mean Young Harry and his friends," Firenze interrupted her swiftly. "Besides, the house elves are only happy to serve those three. They are less thrilled about young Mister Malfoy and seem to be a bit wary around his Muggle friend. And, of course, the vampire wasn't too much of a-"

"Malfoy? As in Draco Malfoy?" Professor Hooch exclaimed. "What in the world is that bastard of a Slytherin-"

"Rolanda!" Professor McGonagal admonished her. "Do not forget that the boy is still a student of this school and we do not actually know everything about what that happened that night. He may very well be a victim in all of this. I, for one, am rather more concerned with the rest of that statement."

"Y-yes, quite," Professor Flitzwick agreed nervously. "A single student should not pose much of a problem. V-vampires and demons, however..."

"What if they're Malfoy's allies?" Hooch demanded. "There are rumours that You-Know-Who has been recruiting vampires and demons. London is apparently full of them!"

"Actually, according to Remus, they're all Dawn's friends," a new voice called out. Everyone now turned their attention to the staircase, which Madame Pomfrey was just coming down.

"Dawn? Who in the world is Dawn?" said Professor Sprout. Then her face lit up in realization and she turned to Professor McGonagal. "Oh! Is she the new defense against the dark arts professor?"

"Merlin help us, no," said Madame Pomfrey, before the deputy headmistress managed to reply. "Though, from what I've heard of her so far, she might actually be capable of teaching the subject and more competently than anyone else has in years. I haven't met her myself, mind, however Remus has and he claims she is quite possibly the most amazing muggle he has ever encountered. And so long as she remains unharmed, the vampire and the demons promise to remain friendly."

After a slight pause, Professor McGonagal sighed. She could feel a headache coming on.

"You know," she said. "I'm not altogether sure whether I should more bewildered that there are demons in the library or that there are demons in the library and you are all being so _bloody calm about it!_"

Madame Pomfrey chuckled. "Well it certainly helps when you know they've already unintentionally helped our side in several, rather significant ways."

"Oh?"

"Hmm, perhaps it would be best if you just went to meet them yourself." For a moment, Minerva McGonagal could've sworn she saw the nurse's eye twinkle in a very familiarly mysterious way. Then her face turned serious. "And while you're in the library, could you please do me a favour and remind Mr. Lupin that, although he is no longer a student at this school, he _is_ my patient and if he doesn't return back to his appointed bed I _will_ spell him comatose until his injuries have properly healed!"

The nurse then turned to the rest of the staff and smiled warmly.

"Oh, and welcome back to Hogwarts everyone, it is delightful to see you all again. I look forward to catching up with you during dinner, although you must excuse me now, for I have a few new patients in the ward thanks to that attack yesterday."

"Yes, see you tonight, dear," Professor Sprout called after her.

Minerva sighed. "Well, I suppose I should go see what all this fuss is about," she said.

"Do be careful, Minerva," said Professor Flitzwick. "And do not hesitate to call us should you need help."

"Of course, I will," she said with a half-smile, before transforming into a cat and setting off towards the library. Behind her the rest of the professors exchanged worried looked, wondering whether or not they should follow.

It didn't take the professor-turned-cat long to enter the library. She'd been teaching at Hogwarts for long enough to know all the hidden little passageways and broken corners in the castle. She sometimes wondered if they'd been made there on purpose for exactly this reason – so that an animagus could pass through the castle undetected – or whether Hogwarts itself created them just for her, as the school sometimes did.

She quietly slipped into the library through a hole in the wall right in the corner beside the small, albeit thorough, section on magical stones. There were several ways for her to slip into the library, but this was her favourite. This particular corner of the library housed books that were rarely used and the opening in the wall was well-hidden within the shadows of the bookcases.

The library felt different. She had never felt, or smelt, anything like it. No sooner had she entered, all of her now-present feline instincts were pulling her away, screaming at her to leave immediately. It took a few minutes for her human mind to wrestle back control and force her body to continue onwards. She weaved her way through the bookshelves, listening intently.

There were voices coming from the front of the library. Once she got used to the foreign stench of demon that seemed to have settled within the room, cat professor realized she could also smell at least two humans and a werewolf. There was also a lingering scent of something else, something with a hint of death – Minerva realized that was probably from the vampire. Who was, thankfully, not present.

Also conspicuously absent were Harry Potter, Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger. Minerva rather hoped the two weren't connected. Hermione Granger's scent she could detect from time to time, probably where the girl had passed through to gather books. As she got closer to the front of the library, she began to also smell Potter and Weasley, but their scents were faint, as though it had been a while since they'd last been here.

She stopped for a moment and sniffed the air again. She felt her claws lengthen and the fur on her back fluff out. By the smell, she guessed that the three Gryffindors hadn't been in the library for at least a day. Her eyes narrowed. If that vampire had done anything to hurt her kittens... She calmed slightly when she realized she couldn't smell any blood and continued onwards. It was the middle of the day after all, which meant the vampire was likely just sleeping somewhere in the dungeons.

Carefully, she crept around the corner of the last book shelf and peered into the front of the room. From her vantage point she could see an unfamiliar dark-haired woman sitting atop Madame Pince's desk and one table closer to her, was Remus Lupin. He was speaking to someone a bit further away, by the bookshelves opposite the librarian's desk, but all Minerva could see of them were their feet. One of them was wearing robes and mens shoes – she assumed that meant it was Draco Malfoy – and the other was wearing those strange Muggle trousers they called jeans and a pair of pink-stripped Muggle shoes.

McGonagal darted underneath the tables to get a closer look.

"Really? So, I'm not the first werewolf you've ever met?" she heard Remus say.

"Oh god no. I mean, I haven't met a lot of werewolves before now... actually, only the one really..." an unfamiliar female – and surprisingly American – voice answered him. "Oz was a friend of my sister and he dated Willow for a while. Well, until he up and left suddenly without a word to anyone."

"And they knew he was a werewolf?" a third voice asked.

The last voice definitely belonged to Draco Malfoy, but Minerva was surprised to notice the genuine curiosity peeking out from under the layer of disgust. Apparently, the young Malfoy had also had an eventful summer.

"Ah yeah, she did," said the American. "He'd only been a werewolf for, like, a week or something when they started dating, so Oz wasn't really used to dealing with the whole wolf-out thing yet."

"I can't imagine getting bitten and being a Muggle," said Remus sadly. "I was very young when I was bitten, but I was from a magical family and so they knew about werewolves and, of course, the hospital knew how to help them to deal with my condition."

Minerva heard the girl giggle. "Yeah, Oz had to figure it all out himself. The first inkling he had that something was up, was when he woke up one morning completely naked in the some bushes and had no idea how he'd gotten there."

Draco Malfoy snickered. "That's actually rather amusing."

"No, it's not; it's horrifying!" Remus exclaimed. "That poor boy must've been terrified."

"Nah, confused at first maybe, but Oz was totally cool about it. Mind you, nothing much ever really phased Oz. He-"

Minerva didn't hear the rest of the girl's answer, because at that moment a shadow descended upon her and a pair of legs blocked her limited view. She instinctively backed away a few steps and bristled, prepared to dart away if necessary. The owner of the legs knelt down and suddenly there was a kind, female face smiling down at her.

"Oh, hello there," said the woman. "I thought I saw something move down here."

She was a petite woman, with long, brown hair and a soft voice with a twang in it that meant she was also American, probably from somewhere around Texas. Her eyes crinkled at the ends as she smiled warmly. Minerva paused, confused. She thought there was only supposed to be one Muggle in the library, but this woman definitely looked Muggle... unless the girl Remus Draco Malfoy were talking with was a demon that sounded human...

The next thing the cat professor knew, two hands were scooping her up from under the table and out into the light. She yeowled out a loud protest and attempted to struggle free, but the thin arms were unexpectedly strong and seemingly unimpressed by her claws. Minerva froze, her human mind finally catching up to her feline instincts, when she realized that no matter how hard she scratched, she wasn't breaking skin.

"Hey, y'all, looks like we've got ourselves a visitor!" the woman holding her called cheerfully.

And then Minerva found herself being placed atop a table. A gentle hand scratched behind her ears and she lost concentration for a moment. Quickly, she shook it off and ducked away, escaping to just out of the woman's – assuming she even was a woman - reach, where she sat back on her haunches and looked around the library imperiously.

Unfortunately, having a clear view of everyone inside the library didn't make anything clearer in her mind.

She could still smell the demons and the part of her that was a cat had its hackles raised, so she knew they were there, somewhere. But except for Remus Lupin, who was sitting at the table next to hers and Draco Malfoy, who was leaning against the table across the aisle, all she could see were three Muggle women. There was one leaning against the table next to Draco with a book in her hand, the second was sitting on top of Madame Pince's desk and then there was the one, who'd found her.

"Um, it's a cat?" the girl next to Draco said a little uncertainly.

Minerva turned to the girl in annoyance and had she been capable of human speech at the moment, she would've likely made some sort of scathing retort, because, obviously, she was a cat. The girl looked like she was no older than her seventh year students too. However, Minerva's annoyance vanished when she realized the girl was looking between Remus, whose eyes were wide with surprise, Draco, who suddenly looked rather pale and the woman seated on the librarian's desk, who was observing Minerva with undisguised curiosity.

"P-professor McGonagal," Draco Malfoy finally stuttered and Minerva almost felt a tad sorry for him. He looked rather terrified.

"You have a cat as a professor?" the girl asked.

"Um, not exactly," said Remus and then gulped. "She's an animagus."

"She's an ani-what-now?"

Minerva sighed internally. There was hardly any point to this anymore, since her cover was effectively blown. She concentrated, saying the spell in her mind and then felt the familiar shift in her magic and the sensation of it flowing through her body as her limbs morphed back into the shape of a human. Her eyes changed as well, from the sharp eyes of a hunter to the less-focused eyes of a human. She blinked a few times as her eyes became accustomed to the assault of bright colours.

"Okay, wow, that was totally cool," said the girl at the table next to Draco.

"Vampires, demons and werewolves barely make you blink, but an animagus impresses you?" Draco said. He still looked pale and frightened, but his eyes were no longer glued to the deputy headmistress and he was looking at the girl next to him with slight bewilderment.

"Haven't you ever met an animagus before?" Remus asked.

"Uh, if by animagus you mean human, who can turn themselves into an animal and back, then no." The girl shrugged. "Well, I mean, there was Amy I suppose, who managed to turn herself into a rat, but then she got stuck. Took Willow, like, two years to figure out how to de-rattify her."

The teacher in Minerva McGonagal was outraged.

"What in the world was that girl thinking?" she demanded, even as she realized there were actually more important issues she should be addressing. "Preforming an animagus transformation is extremely dangerous without proper instruction! At the very least she should've made sure there was someone capable of reversing the spell."

"Yeah, except that most people don't really think big picture when faced with imminent death," the girl replied calmly (as though 'imminent death' was a normal, everyday thing). "Long story, but basically it came down to burn to death tied to a stake or escape by turning into a rat. She picked rat."

Several moments of silence later, Remus chuckled.

"You know," he said, "I never thought it possible that one could be a Muggle and still think of magic and the supernatural as a normal, everyday thing. You are clearly doing everything in your power to prove me wrong."

Draco muttered something under his breath and then hissed as the girl – Dawn apparently - stepped on his foot,_ hard_, a wide, innocent-looking smile on her face. And then Minerva's worldview was turned up-side down as Draco Malfoy, pureblood scion, did nothing more than glare at her. She glanced to Remus, whose eyes danced with amusement as he mouthed 'later' to her.

Minerva raised an eyebrow at him.

"Mister Lupin," she said and all amusement died from Remus's face. She did so enjoy dealing with her former students – they never did completely outgrow their automatic reaction to that particular tone of voice. "Poppy has asked me to inform you that if she does not find you in your assigned bed in the very near future, she will spell you comatose until you have healed enough to be discharged."

"Woah, hang on there!" Dawn exclaimed. She put her book down on the table behind her and stood up straight. Placing her hands on her hips, she glowered down at Remus. "You said you were clear to roam about and were most definitely not an escapee."

"Ah, er, yes, well..." Remus looked decidedly nervous as he looked between the two women in the room. "Poppy had said I was well enough to go down to the library to get some books..."

"Which didn't include spending the whole morning here, I'm assuming," said Dawn. Then she smiled sweetly. "Well, we certainly wouldn't want you to be spelled comatose by the angry witch-doctor lady. Azazella, could you help him get to the infirmary?"

"Yes."

Minerva jumped at the unexpected voice that answered and her eyes widened in alarm at the flare of power that followed. She swung around to face it, her wand appearing in her hand in a single, fluent movement that Alastor Moody would've been proud of (she'd been practicing, after all).

Standing in front of the librarian's desk was a creature unlike any she'd ever seen before. It was clearly female – assuming male demons didn't somehow have breasts – and looked almost human, except that it clearly wasn't. The deep red eyes and pitch black skin that was slightly raised at the forehead in the shape of some sort of symbol, were certainly not human. She wore armour that was red and black and looked almost organic in how it clung to her body, yet did not seem to constrict her movements at all. The armour was sleeveless with menacing spikes jutting out of the shoulder pieces, which, combined with the spears that crossed over her back, made her look doubly dangerous.

Yes, this was definitely one of the demons.

Minerva never saw it move. Suddenly, it – she – was standing beside Remus. A clawed hand firmly grasped the werewolf's shoulder and made him jump. Then, a column of black flames flared up out of nowhere and surrounded them, shielding them from view. The flames died out just as abruptly, leaving an empty space where the two had previously been.

Amazingly enough, neither the furniture nor the floor seemed to have been damaged by the flames.

"Wha- what happened?" Minerva stuttered out in surprise. Her eyes narrowed and she rounded on Draco and Dawn. "Where is Remus?" she demanded of them.

"Don't worry, professor," said Dawn, her hands held out in front of her in a placating gesture. "She just took him back to the infirmary."

And then the flames along with the same, dark burst of magic. The demon was back. No sooner had the flames disappeared again, the black skin and hair began to lighten and her armor began to change into regular clothes. McGonagal stared at the young, ordinary-looking woman, who sat back down onto the librarian's desk as though nothing unusual had just happened.

Her eyes narrowed and she continued to stare. This demon that morphed into the guise of a human woman... that meant something to her. Dark, wavy hair and tanned skin wearing a white shirt and khaki-coloured pants with lots of pockets covering the legs...

Minerva's eyes widened and she took an involuntary step backwards. The woman/demon turned her head to look her in the eyes and cocked her head.

"You!" she gasped. "It was you in Dagon Alley several days ago during the death eater attack!"

"Shook off two Unforgiveables and then killed Belatrix Lestrange?" Draco supplied helpfully. "Yes, that's her."

Suddenly, Minerva remembered what Poppy had told her about Dawn's friends having already helped them in their own way. She gathered her scattered wits back to her and turned to face Dawn.

"Madame Pomfrey and Firenze tell me you and your friends have already helped our side in this war," she stated. "Killing Belatrix Lestrange and thus dispersing the attack on Dagon Alley was one instance, but I take it that isn't everything..."

She tailed off at the end, prompting the girl to answer. Of course, Minerva realized she had no real proof that whatever else they would claim credit for was actually their doing, however she was certainly curious. Besides, it wasn't like she couldn't ask Remus later – assuming he wasn't actualy being spelled comatose at this very moment.

Dawn looked slightly confused. She exchanged looks with Draco. Suddenly, her eyes widened in realization and she looked back to Minerva.

"Oh, you mean that werewolf Spike killed!" she said. "Uh, Fen... Fenrir something, I think."

"Fenrir Greyback," added Draco.

And just like that, the world had turned sideways again. Spike. The name of the vampire that was supposed to be comparably bad to Angelus, the Scourge of Europe. This vampire had been inside Hogwarts. And killed Fenrir Greyback. And was friends with this Muggle girl – did that mean he wasn't their enemy?

Minerva took a deep breath.

"And where exactly is this vampire now?" she asked. Important questions first. Just because he wasn't inside the library didn't mean he wasn't still lurking somewhere inside the school.

"Uh, we're not really sure," said Dawn. She gave an apologetic shrug. "He and Connor took off with Harry and the others to help them find some sort of soul splinter that supposed to help kill Voldemort."

Minerva cursed mentally. Those brats! They were supposed to stay put and not leave the castle!

"Horcrux," Draco whispered and that one word instantly stopped her mental cursing in its tracks. She looked at the boy. He didn't meet her eye. "They went looking for the Dark Lord's horcrux."

Minerva closed her eyes and took a deep breath. When she opened them, she straightened herself to full height and crossed her arms.

"Right then," she said. "Why don't you both start at the beginning. How exactly did you, son of Lucius Malfoy, manage to meet and befriend a Muggle, of all things, how did both of you get into the school, what the hell is going on right now and why shouldn't I just throw you out. Tell me everything."

Two hours later, Minerva left the library, having just given her impromptu guests her word as acting headmistress of the school that they were all safe at Hogwarts provided they didn't harm anyone. As she made her way to the infirmary to discuss what she'd just learned with Remus and discover his thoughts on the matter, she knew three things for sure:

One, despite their claims, she was sure there was something – other than her friends – very much _not_ ordinary about Dawn. She wasn't sure what, but her instincts were telling her the girl hadn't told her everything. In fact, she was fairly certain not even Draco Malfoy knew the whole truth about his new friend.

Two, as soon as the next headmaster was appointed, they really needed to look at the school's security and strengthen the castle's wards.

Three, she really needed a stiff drink.

* * *

An explosion shook the house.

Charlie looked up with alarm. Then relaxed and went back to his book with a slight shake of his head when he realized it had come from the kitchen. Really, the twins were lucky their mum was in the hospital visiting their dad. He just hoped they managed to clean up the mess they'd undoubtedly just made on their own, because he had work to do.

Work he was dreadfully behind on as a result of everything that had happened since he'd arrived in England. The Romanian reserve was due to accept a new dragon into its midst within the month – or however long it took the trappers to capture it. This wasn't just any dragon either, it was a Royal Red. Royal Reds were originally native to South Africa, but had been thought extinct. In fact, there'd been no documented sightings for over 300 years. Until about four months ago, when wizards in California saw a lone dragon flying overhead.

No sooner had American experts identified it, the dragon decided to fly across the Atlantic. Dragon experts and hunters from around the world began gathering in Africa in order to catch it, at which point in time they'd quickly realized the African reserve didn't have the facilities to house the creature. The nearest one that could was in Romania. And, thanks to his work with Hungarian Horntails, Charlie was chosen to be the new dragon's caretaker. It was partially why he was in Britain, having gotten special permission from the Ministry to dig through their extensive library and archives for any information he could find on the previously-thought extinct dragons. Professor McGonagal had also given him permission to search the Hogwarts library, although that hadn't proven nearly as fruitful as he'd hoped.

Well, he'd learned a bit about demons and met the Muggle who'd befriended a Malfoy, an infamous vampire, two demons and a boy, who was apparently not-quite-a-boy. He rather wished he'd gotten the chance to talk to the girl, Dawn, a bit more; she seemed interesting. He might've even managed to convince her of the beauty and wonder of dragons...

Alas, he hadn't really gotten much of a chance to. He'd been sent by Madame Pomfrey to find her missing werewolf patient when he met them. Convincing them to allow Remus to return to the medical wing hadn't really taken much effort, since Dawn had actually gotten rather annoyed with Remus for not mentioning being a hospital bed escapee. Of course, both Charlie and Remus had to promise not to raise any sort of alarm – by this point Dawn's friends were busy working with Ron, Harry and Hermione on something, which the students insisted was vitally important to defeating You-Know-Who, so Charlie decided to give them the benefit of the doubt.

After he'd escorted Remus into Madame Pomfrey's highly disapproving and unamused hands, Charlie had gone down to let Bill know they no longer needed to break into Slytherin House. Not that Bill cared. He was utterly fascinated by the demonic ward and determined to break through it no matter what. Which he did, just over two hours later.

Thankfully, most of the ministry's aurors had been recalled to London due to an attack, because Charlie highly doubted he would've been able to convince Moody not to storm the library. The vampire had been very serious when he said he'd do whatever he had to in order to protect Dawn should they attack. He wasn't sure if Harry and the others had understood the implications of that, but Charlie certainly did.

Sometime mid-afternoon, Madame Pomfrey had finally had enough of Fred and George's antics and declared them healed enough to return home. Charlie returned with them, since he had work to do and for some reason (possibly temporary insanity), thought he could get it done whilst babysitting his two younger brothers.

"Oi, Gred, was it supposed to do that?" he heard from the kitchen several moments after the explosion.

"No, I don't think so, Forge."

"Hmm... do you think we can get this sludge out of mum's mixing bowl?"

"Are you sure this sludge isn't part mixing bowl?"

"Uhh..."

Charlie groaned.

"Should we try cleaning it?"

"... maybe put it on the counter first."

"Right. Just in case."

Charlie heard some shuffling and a few muttered words and then there was silence. He breathed a sigh of relief and went back to his reading, until-

"Wow, Forge, I've never seen a cleaning spell do that before."

"Me neither, Gred."

Another few moments of silence.

"I hope the counter doesn't catch fire."

Charlie sighed and decided to strategically give up, putting the book down onto the coffee table. As the big brother it was his responsibility to make sure the twins didn't burn the kitchen down. Suddenly, he heard twin screams.

"Merlin's bloody purple bunny slippers!"

Charlie leaped over the coffee table as he raced to the kitchen. The twins had a remarkable talent for remaining calm, collected and jovial under just about all kinds of pressure (including their mum), so screaming and swearing was a definite sign that the kitchen was about to burn down, or explode, or turn into a crocodile-infested swamp. Charlie stopped in the doorway and did a quick inventory of the kitchen: there were no strange smells, no flames and nothing looked like it was melting or missing - well, the green mixing bowl on the counter was emitting a few multicoloured sparks, but that seemed only vaguely horrifying...

"What's going on?" Charlie demanded in a panic, trying to desperately figure out what he wasn't seeing. "What have you two-"

He froze as he noticed there was an extra person in the room. Two seconds later, he had a twin clinging to him from either side.

"Um, who's that?" he asked.

"We don't know," the twin on his left answered.

"We were cleaning out mum's bowl-" added the one on the right.

"-and then we looked up-"

"-and she was standing there staring at us-"

"-with those really creepy eyes-"

"-and that really creepy smile-"

"She's way too creepy to be human-"

"-way, way too creepy to be human."

'Creepy' was definitely an adequate description for the person, Charlie decided. And the slight hints of curves underneath her shapeless, dirty dress, which had at some point in time probably been white, definitely identified her as a woman. Around her neck, she wore a heavy, silver necklace with a half moon dangling down from it. Her hair was a wild white-blonde that was pulled back from her face with a strip of fabric adorned with strings of wooden beads and sea shells. Her skin was tanned and her lips were chapped - like a true wild child. She stood completely still, scrutinizing Charlie just as he scrutinized her, her eyes such a pale, milky blue, it was more of a shade than a colour.

"She's blind," Charlie whispered as he finally realized why her eyes looked so familiar. They reminded him of one of the old Welsh Greens he'd seen at the reserve in Wales.

"What?" the twins exclaimed in perfect unison. Anything else they were going to say was cut off abruptly when the woman giggled.

"Nothing comes from nothing, Dragon Tamer," the woman said quietly in a sing-song voice. "To obtain great power, a great sacrifice must be given."

Charlie stiffened. Her voice was light and sweet, almost child-like, but he could feel the vibration of magic in her words, a primal power coating them as they left her lips. He always felt a similar sort of power whenever a dragon roared, only louder, more violent. And – Charlie stiffened as realization once again dawned on him – more recently, he'd felt such power in the Hogwarts library.

"You're a demon," he said, his eyes never leaving hers. He swallowed his fear and mustered all his Gryffindor courage. "What do you want from us?" he demanded.

"Clever Dragon Tamer," sang the woman, her face suddenly only centimetres from Charlie's.

Charlie and the twins all screamed in surprise and scrambled back several steps. The twin on Charlie's left tripped over the door frame as he backpedaled, which resulted in a cascade of falling Weasleys since both twins were still very much attached to Charlie. Thus, the second eldest Weasley found himself sprawled clumsily on the ground between his two brothers with a sore arse and dented dignity.

Musical laughter filled the living room. Charlie started violently as he realized it was coming _from_ _behind_ him. He leapt to his feet and turned around. Beside him, he heard the twins scrambling to their feet as well.

"Bl-bloody hell!" the one on his right swore quietly.

"H-how did she do that?"

"_When_ did she do that?"

Charlie heard the slightly hysterical edge in his brother's voices, but didn't dare take his eyes off the demon-woman. The corners of her eyes crinkled as she laughed and she almost looked beautiful – like a forest faerie. But even as she laughed, Charlie couldn't shake the sinister feeling, the wildness - no, madness - in her demeanor that kept him on alert.

Suddenly, the laughter stopped and she was once again staring solemnly at them.

"Do not fear me," she said softly, her voice carrying a soft hum as she spoke. "I mean you no harm. I come in peace, though your leader I do not seek."

Charlie blinked.

"Who are you?" he asked in the calmest voice he could muster.

"I am the Fourth. I am the one, who can see a world in every grain of sand, can see eternity in every single moment."

"Uhh...Fourth of what?" the twin on Charlie's left asked.

"The Fourth of those who gather. Two have met, the Third is near and so I am the Fourth. Too early yet, for me to join for the Dragon has not yet woken."

"Okay, so why are you here then?" Charlie asked. Then he cleared his throat and straightened, filling himself with the same sort of false confidence he used when dealing with his dragons. "What do you want with us?"

The woman stilled and all sound around her stopped. Her blind, unblinking eyes focused on Charlie and bore into his. For several agonizing moments, she said nothing and when she finally spoke, her voice was steady and lacking of any of the musical qualities it had held.

"Now the time to hide is done:

the Snake prepares to rise.

The Lion, you see, he cannot win,

The Snake is much too strong.

The Killer of the Beast go seek,

those who fought the Evil One.

The Snake looks to swallow

more than he can hold,

but the Circle that feeds him

is worse by many fold.

Champions must meet;

and together fight,

or apart they shall die.

Three parts remain the Snake Charmer seeks.

One shown, one hides where all can see

and the third is close at hand.

Tell, the Boy to listen to the Tree

and heed the Dragon's words.

For if at first you don't succeed,

the world will be no more."

Then the woman was silent again and Charlie realized he was gaping. The woman smiled suddenly and her eyes flashed. She laughed again. And then a howling wind swept through the room. She was gone in the time it took Charlie to blink against the dust that was being swept into his eyes.

The three Weasley boys looked around the room and then exchanged bewildered looks with each other.

"Right, so that was, uh-" began one twin (Charlie was reasonably sure it was Fred).

"-interesting?" finished the other.

"So, I'm thinking she's either completely nuts," said Charlie thoughtfully. "Or she's quite possibly just given us step by step instructions on how to defeat You-Know-Who."

"Which will be very useful-"

"-once we decipher them."

Charlie suddenly frowned, there was something odd still lingering in the air. It didn't feel like the demon woman though, in fact, it almost felt somewhat familiar. He scanned the room. Then he noticed the kitchen doorway.

"Before we do any deciphering, you two might want to do something about the smoke coming out of the kitchen before mum gets home."

"Yeah, mum would kill us if we-"

"-did anything to... wait!"

"Did you say-"

"Smoke?"

They said the last word in unison, before exchanging identical looks of horror and rushing towards the kitchen. Charlie chuckled and then strolled along after them in case they needed help with the purple-coloured smoke wafting out of the kitchen.

* * *

The car window slid open with a soft buzz and Anthony Davidson took a deep breath. The fresh air felt good against his face, inner-city smog bedamned. Of course, it could've been raining fireballs and he probably still would've found it wonderful – heck, half an hour ago, he would've welcomed a fireball storm.

Unless, of course, the international media counted as the equivalent of a fireball storm. They'd certainly been as fired up and relentless as one. In his anxiousness over the Ministry of Magic's reaction to his defense, he'd completely forgotten that the general public had absolutely no idea what was going on and didn't tend to take kindly to being kept in the dark.

He took another deep breath, smelling a hint of lilac as they passed by a large Victorian house with a cast iron fence that was almost hidden amongst the overflow of lilac trees. And suddenly, he couldn't take it anymore. A block later, Anthony told the driver to stop the car.

"Is there something wrong, Prime Minister?" Stewart, one of his bodyguards for the evening, asked from the front seat.

"No, not really," Anthony answered, hoping he didn't look as anxious as he felt – as though the car was going to eat him alive if he stayed inside it for any longer. "I just need to clear my head a bit, so I think I'll walk from here."

"Very well, Prime Minister, then I shall accompany you," said the bodyguard as he began to unbuckle his seat belt.

"No, thank you, I'll manage on my own."

The man paused, tensing at Anthony's words before relaxing again and sitting back in his seat.

"Yes, sir," he said.

With a sigh of relief, Anthony got out of the car. As he watched it drive away, he mused that his bodyguards had been rather oddly co-operative lately with leaving him on his own when he asked them to. They'd done the same thing when he'd gone to meet Connie in the park. . . He wondered whether that meant they liked him more or less than before.

Anthony began walking, suddenly feeling more energized than he had since yesterday morning when he'd faced Scrimgeour and his cronies. Remembering the delighted victory he'd felt after they'd left his office still brought a smile to his face despite everything that had happened since.

He'd gone from hero to almost-villain within the span of twenty-four hours and no insisting from anyone else – including the bloody opposition – that he was truly doing everything he could for his country, seemed able to convince the public and the media otherwise. The elation of victory over the terrorists had apparently dissipated from people's minds and now all he was hearing were accusations of lies and conspiracies (which, he supposed weren't entirely unwarranted even if he hadn't had a choice in the matter) and debates about whether the government was justified in stationing armed soldiers amongst ordinary citizens, undercover or not.

In a morbid sort of way, he almost found himself amused at just how unpopular he was at the moment. It seemed the only people, who were actually on his side were those in the government and in the army. Although, according to his press secretary, the e-mails coming in and the posts on his official webpage were split about half-way between people, who thought he was brilliant and the people, who thought he wasn't worthy of his title (to put it politely).

Anthony sighed, wishing he could make all the thoughts n his head just stop. He was sick of thinking about the accusations, of wondering whether things could've been better if he had done something sooner. Or if gaining the animosity of the Ministry of Magic and potentially attracting the attention of this Dark Lord wizard was just simply an absolutely horrible idea.

All in all, he wasn't paying much attention to his surroundings. Though, even if had been, he still may not have noticed the shadows moving towards him in the dark.

Suddenly, there was a flash of light behind him and a screech of pain. Anthony whirled around only to see the most horrendous face he'd ever laid eyes on outside the cinema. And not even the best of Hollywood could have possibly done justice to this face or captured the malicious fire that burned in its bright yellow, inhuman eyes. Under the streetlight its skin looked dark green and thick, like a rhinoceros' – it even had a small horn sticking out of the middle of its forehead, surrounded by a series of prominent ridges. The light glinted off its pearly white and very sharp-looking teeth.

It raised a battle ax.

Anthony screamed.

The ax began to move downwards and then suddenly it was gone as the creature jumped back and a beam of light flashed between them. Anthony didn't bother trying to figure out what it was, he just turned and ran. The monster roared and he sped up.

"Mister Prime Minister!" he heard a voice call out.

He glanced to the side and saw a figure running towards him, dark robes flapping behind them. His heart leaped to his throat and froze for a few terrifying moments until he realized they weren't wearing a mask. Then the figure ran underneath a streetlamp and Anthony's panic eased: it was Kingsley Shaklebolt.

He ran towards the wizard.

"Incendio!" Shaklebolt cried, pointing his wand at the creature. A beam of light shot out of it and the creature screamed as small flames erupted on its upper arm.

"I never thought I'd ever be happy to see a wizard," said Anthony once he reached him.

Shaklebolt grabbed him by the arm and pulled him towards him.

"Hold on to me," he commanded. "I'm going to side-along apparate us."

Anthony had no idea what that meant, but he nodded anyway and grabbed the other man by the shoulder. As long as it got them away from here, he didn't care what it meant. The wizard pointed his wand upwards.

"Solaris!"

The air above them exploded in light. Anthony shielded his eyes with the hand not clutching the wizard's robes. Shrieks of anger and surprise sounded from the now-illuminated shadows surrounding them and Anthony, to his horror, realized there was quite a few more than one of them.

"Right, now hang on," said Shaklebolt. Out of the corner of his eyes, Anthony saw him point his wand at himself and mutter something under his breath.

He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. He thought he could almost feel the tingle of what could be magic wash over him, accompanied by a slight breeze. Everything around them became quiet. Anthony opened his eyes, deciding that this whole magic thing was rather disappointing. Until he looked around him and realized they hadn't actually gone anywhere.

The closest monster was grinning maliciously at them.

"Shit!" said Shaklebolt under his breath. "They've somehow managed to set up anti-apparition wards!"

"That doesn't sound good," said Anthony, voice somehow sounding steadier thought it ought to. He gulped. "And I take it one wizard against half a dozen or so of whatever-those-things-are is ridiculously unfair odds?"

"That would be my guess."

"Guess? What do you mean, guess?"

"Because I'm not entirely sure what they are. Probably some sort of demon, though."

"Brilliant. And not the type to be chased away by words from the _Old Testament_, I suppose?"

"Uh, no."

"Pity. Although, it's not like I know any _Old Testament_ words anyway. Nor am I a priest or even a proper Christian on most days."

The look Shaklebolt directed at him was definitely questioning his sanity and Anthony wondered whether he actually had any left to question. He took a deep breath in an attempt to calm his jittery nerves.

"So, what now?" he asked.

"Run," answered Shaklebolt.

"Right."

In unison, both men turned and tore off down the street, Anthony feeling rather proud at being able to keep up with the tall, athletic-looking wizard. Behind him, he heard the thumping of heavier feet accompanied by the metallic clanging of armor. Every few steps, Shaklebolt would twist slightly and fire a spell at their pursuers, but none of them seemed to be doing much as far as Anthony could tell.

They managed to make it to the end of the street before they were overtaken.

Anthony had known he wasn't in the best of shapes, but he cursed his own laziness as he felt himself tiring. His legs felt like they weighed several kilograms more than usual and his chest felt hot as his breath was being wrenched out of his lungs in desperate pants and wheezes. But he knew he couldn't stop, so he forced his legs to keep moving, forced his lungs to keep puffing.

And then his feet didn't touch the pavement and all Anthony had time to feel was a moment of confusion before he felt himself moving through the air and then crashing into the dark-robed figure of Kingsley Shaklebolt. Both of them tumbled to the ground in a mass of limbs and cloth, with Anthony somehow managing to roll over Shaklebolt and landing on the other side of him, directly onto his right hip.

Anthony grunted on impact and grit his teeth together as pain shot up from his hip. The pain did not, however, chase the panic out of his mind and no sooner had he landed, he was already attempting to get up. He winced with the movement and nearly collapsed again as he put his support onto his left hand – which felt numb with a slight prickling sensation running along his palm.

Then he heard Shaklebolt scream in pain.

Anthony looked up to see the dark-skinned wizard drop to knees in agony, a double-sided battle ax embedded into his left shoulder at an angle. Blood poured out of the wound and disappeared into the dark colour of his robes. A large, clawed hand grabbed the hilt of the ax roughly, causing Shaklebolt to scream again.

"Shaklebolt!" Anthony cried out.

The demon looked to him and then grunted out a few harsh-sounding syllables. At that, two other demons began to stalk towards him. Anthony's eyes widened and he began to scramble backwards, not caring about the pain in his left hand. He somehow managed to get to his feet as he backpedaled, nearly tripping and falling down again in the process.

Even as he watched the two approaching him, he saw the demon who had Shaklebolt dislodge its ax by shoving the wizard away from it with its foot. The wizard let out a sharp cry of pain, before sailing several feet through the air and crashing into a lamppost with a hollow thunk.

Anthony's eyes widened, taking another hurried step backwards and barely managing to keep his balance as he stepped on something crunchy and metallic (if he survived this he swore he would pass a law to make littering illegal – punishable by death or something to that effect). He kicked the can away and glanced back to Shaklebolt. The wizard's body was slumped over on the ground, half-propped up by the lamp post he'd crashed into. He wasn't moving. Anthony noticed the blood beginning to pool around him.

"Oh my God," Anthony whispered. And then the panic came crashing back into him with full force. "Shaklebolt! Shaklebolt, can you hear me?"

When there was no answer, he looked back to the advancing demons, who were apparently taking their time to surround him properly before going in for the kill. Yellow, inhuman eyes shone at him from all corners of the darkened street. And they were slowly getting closer, closing in like a pack of hyenas.

"H-help!" he screamed as loud as he could, not caring how high-pitched his voice was – all he knew was that he really, really didn't want to die. "Oh, God, please somebody-"

His voice and breath were suddenly cut off as a massive hand seized him by the throat. He grabbed at the arm in vain, struggling to dislodge it. His wide eyes met those of his captor. This demon didn't grin or sneer at him, just stared back coldly, looking almost bored as it patiently waited for him to stop struggling.

Sheer terror shot through Anthony's mind like a bolt of lightening.

He screamed a sort of wheezy, raspy half-noise and kicked his feet out blindly – somehow realizing, yet not-quite-realizing they were now dangling off the ground. The pressure on his neck increased. He felt his head get hotter and lighter and white spots began to appear before his eyes. Attempting to brace himself, he let loose another desperate volley of blind kicks with legs that felt like lead in the hopes he might hit something vital by accident.

He may as well have been kicking a brick wall.

The pressure at his neck increased again and more spots flew in front of his eyes as he felt himself being shaken. He rasped in pain, aware his kicks weren't connecting to anything anymore. The spots were getting bigger and his head seemed to be suspended somewhere in another space and time. His body was begging him to just give in, to close his eyes and go to sleep... His mind fought it, though, knowing that falling asleep would mean never waking up... But will power could only do so much...

And then the pressure was gone and he was falling...

...and landing on something rather hard.

It took several large, painful gasps before Anthony realized he was not only still awake, but also no longer on death's doorstep. And there was lots of shouting and clanging going on around him.

Anthony looked up and stared. Between the wheezing coughs that painfully racked his abused throat and the bright spots that still hadn't quite disappeared from his vision, he was fairly certain he was hallucinating.

There was a woman, beautiful, yet terrifying, with dark flowing hair that whipped around her as she challenged the demon and met his wide, dark-bladed sword blow for blow with a broadsword of her own. She was like a goddess of war. The demon looked furious, but underneath that fury, Anthony thought he could see hints of fear.

Their swords once again clashed between them with a harsh clang and Anthony noticed an arrow piercing one of the demon's wrists. Blood dripped from it in a steady stream as the demon strained to keep the woman at bay. And then they parted.

His mind would never quite manage to piece together just how the following moments played out. No sooner had the dark-haired warrior jumped away from the demon, she was charging at it again and then the demon was darting out of the way of her blow, before stepping back towards her and swinging his much-larger sword at her. Anthony heard swords clash and saw dark hair swinging around like a stormy sea, both opponents dancing around each other in a blur of movents too fast for his eyes to see.

Around him, he could hear sounds of battle and saw colours moving out of the corner of his eyes, but his sight was riveted on the two figures before him.

Suddenly, the tension snapped and their movements stopped. Something flew away and landed on the ground with a wet plop. The woman straightened to her full height and lowered her bloody sword as the demon's body crumbled to the ground. Her eyes stared coldly down at her defeated foe, a slight grin of triumph on her deep red lips.

Something nudged against Anthony's right knee and he tore his eyes away from her to glance down.

Two wide, dull yellow eyes stared up at him and teeth that would never bite anything again snarled menacingly. Anthony emitted a strangled sort of high-pitched shriek that hurt his throat and scrambled backwards. The eyes followed him, still vaguely bored, waiting for him to stop struggling.

Somewhere, he heard someone shouting and he was sure he really should be running away now. Far away from the yellow eyes and the ferocious warrior goddess. But he couldn't seem to remember how to move his limbs.

His head exploded in pain and he finally succumbed to darkness.

* * *

Faith cursed. Civilians really annoyed her sometimes: getting all terrified and squeamish at exactly the wrong times.

"Hey, yo, snap out of it!" she yelled at the man she'd just rescued. He was staring at the demon's head and looking like he was having a panic attack.

As she ran towards him the demon standing behind the guy lifted a large, dark-bladed dagger. Faith reacted. Her sword flew through the air and impaled the demon's throat. The demon's eyes widened and a gurgling noise came from its throat just before it toppled over. On its way down, the demon's armored arm banged into the back of the civilian's head, knocking him out. He slumped to the ground like a ragdoll.

"Damn," muttered Faith as she skidded to an abrupt stop to avoid getting hit by another demon one of the other slayers had just thrown in the general direction of a lamp post.

Reaching the man, she was very relieved to find out he was still breathing – faintly and with some difficulty, but even that was better than the alternative. She pulled her sword out of the dead demon's throat and shoved the corpse to the side. She was reaching for the human to carry him somewhere off to the side and away from any falling demons or stray weapons, when she was stopped by a low humming noise.

Her head snapped up and her body tensed, immediately crouching into a stance she could easily either fight from or take off running towards whatever the danger was. She scanned the small battlefield. Vi and Renata, the two slayers she'd been patrolling with, were both busy fighting off a demon each. They were each sporting a few cuts on their arms and that was going to be one heck of a bruise on the side of Renata's face once it finished forming, but they didn't look like they were faltering.

Slight movement off to the side caught her attention and she swung to face it. One of the fallen demons was still alive, although not looking in any shape to fight. It was blowing into something long and metallic-looking with a few beads hanging off of it and just like that, Faith knew where the odd humming was coming from. As she listened to the noise, she realized that it wasn't so much that it was 'humming' at all, but rather that the pitch of the sound was so unbelievably low that it seemed like it was. In fact, she was pretty sure that without her slayer hearing she wouldn't have been able to hear it at all.

Sort of like a dog whistle.

"Fuck, that can't be good," she said to herself, before tightening the grip on her sword.

She covered the distance between her and demon in five sprints and the demon barely had time to so much as seem surprised before she decapitated it in one smooth strike. She stood over it and waited, every nerve on edge, every muscle tingling in anticipation. If dog whistles call for dogs, she wondered, then what the hell did demon whistles call for?

Moments later, a loud shriek answered her question.

Faith looked around her, peering into the shadows to try and identify the source of the shriek. Then she heard it again. She froze. And looked up.

She ducked low just in time to avoid the talons of whatever it was that was flying towards her. The air moved above her as it flew by, only narrowly missing her. She was immediately back up on her feet searching the sky for it.

Faith heard a scream of pain from behind her and whirled around to watch as Renata fell to the ground clutching her thigh, blood soaking through her jeans. The demon she'd been fighting raised its sword and brought it down, but the German slayer rolled out of the way just in time. Then, with an agility that no normal human girl with that sort of injury could've ever managed, she raised herself onto her hands and folded her injured leg under her as her other one swung around and knocked the feet from under the demon. A battle cry born out of rage and pain tore from her throat as she unsheathed the dagger strapped to her ankle and pounced on top of the felled demon, ramming the weapon deep into its eye. The demon screamed.

Faith could feel her instincts react, could feel the air move behind her even as she saw movement coming from the left.

"Renata, get down!" she shouted and turned, lifting her sword in front of her own face.

Large, sharp-looking talons collided with the sword and Faith grit her teeth as she kept them as far away as she could. With a cry, she managed to push them back and then used her own momentum to charge forward and take a swipe at the creature. She heard a screech of pain and felt a rush of wind. Taking a few steps back herself, she saw a small line of blood on its feathered underbelly – only a slight nick, but better than nothing, she supposed.

It was now that she finally got a good look at the creature and realized that it wasn't actually all that big – relatively speaking. It looked only slightly taller than her from where it stared down at her with a furious expression in its blood red eyes. When it opened its beak and extended its long neck to shriek at her, Faith saw a row of small, but very sharp-looking, teeth. Its wings were oddly bat-like and covered in scales except for the tips, which ended in long, dark feathers. A dark red sac hung from its chin and wobbled loosely as it bobbed in the air, looking a bit like the psychotic lovechild of a dragon and a turkey.

A second creature joined it, flapping its wings calmly as it studied her, as though trying to decide just how it wanted to eat her.

Something flat hit her back gently and moved back – just enough to tell her it was there.

"Faith, what the hell are these things?" Vi asked her, panting.

"No clue, but there's two of them and they don't look friendly," Faith answered.

"Three, actually. There's one on this side too."

Faith sighed in annoyance. "Oh joy." Just then, Renata joined them and Faith noticed she was limping. The girl automatically turned her back to the other two in order to close the circle and have her sword facing out, towards the enemy.

"Yo, Renata, you okay?" Faith asked.

Renata nodded with a hard, determined look on her face. "Ja, I can still fight."

"That'll do." Faith turned her full attention back to the flying turkey dragons. "Well, three flying demon thingies against three slayers is better odds than we usually get. Don't suppose anyone remembers where we left the crossbow?"

"I do," said Vi. "It's by the hedge, where we left the rest of our stuff."

Faith nodded.

"Right. Renata, we'll cover. You go grab the crossbow and start sniping. And grab a cell and call Giles while you're at it. We're gonna need the Slaymobile. We've got two injured civilians and you ain't gonna be able to walk all the way back to Slayer Central either."

"Faith, uh, I think the black guy by the lamp post might be a wizard," Vi added. "He's wearing robes and I'm pretty sure I saw a wand on the ground beside him."

Faith raised an eyebrow. Well, that was interesting. A wizard and a regular civilian? She thought wizards didn't mix with normal people.

"Renata, tell that to Giles too."

"Okay."

"Good." She unsheathed the dagger on her left thigh and took a deep breath. "On three. One... Two... Three!"

As she yelled the last number, Faith threw the dagger with all her might at the turkey dragon on her left, which was still bleeding from the cut on its underbelly, and charged at the other one. Out of the corner of her eye, she spied Renata taking off at a sprint. Behind her, she heard Vi's powerful warcry as she too charged at her target.

Faith's dagger caught the one on the left in the wing and made it screech and flounder slightly. She kept an eye on it as she focused on the other one, leaping into the air as high as she could to get closer. She swung her sword, but the turkey dragon flew just out of range. Faith cursed as she landed back onto the ground and into a low crouch. She threw herself to the side in time to avoid the other one, easily rolling into another low crouch.

She stayed as she was for a few moments, racking her head for an idea on how to deal with the flying demon turkey things. She really missed her bow and arrow. Before Faith realized what she was doing, her slayer instincts had taken over her and she twisted her body sideways and to the right, so that all her weight rested on the hand gripping her sword. As she watched large talons sail past only inches away from her face, she suddenly had an idea. Before it had even had a chance to fully form, she shot out with her left hand, grabbed the bird's foot and pulled as hard as her current position would allow.

It wasn't enough to stop the turkey dragon, but it did let out a surprised squawk and slow down for a moment as it stumbled mid-flight. Which was, apparently, all that was needed, because suddenly the squawk turned into a screech as an arrow pierced its side. Faith let go of its leg and was on her feet the second she saw the impact. Tossing her sword into her left hand, she jumped up and grabbed its wing. Her left leg found a foothold at the base of its tail and she raised her sword.

So focused was she on hanging on to the floundering flying demon bird, that she hadn't heard the angry screeching above her. Suddenly, Faith's right shoulder and back exploded in pain. She screamed as something tore through her muscles. There was pressure there, something pulling her away, but she held on as she cursed herself for forgetting there was another bird.

The pressure disappeared and Faith took a deep breath and grit her teeth. Then she swung her sword down and the bird's right wing separated from its body with ease. As it began to fall, Faith let go of the wing, pushing herself away from the bird's body with her left leg and then flipping backwards so that she landed smoothly on her feet.

The now one-winged turkey demon lay on its side screeching and flopping about helplessly for several moments, before a second arrow shot it in the head. The body continued twitching, but it was now silent.

The impact of her landing sent a wave of pain through Faith's shoulder that made her head spin. The dark-haired slayer hissed and then took a deep breath as her eyes scanned the sky for the bastard turkey thing that had injured her. She heard some vaguely musical-sounding gurgling noises coming from her right and turned towards it.

There was the second creature she'd been looking for, looking a bit concerned as it hovered with its neck extended and facing towards its comrade. It made a few more gurgling noises and Faith saw the moment it realized the other was dead – an expression of sadness crossed its face for a moment before its neck swung to face Faith, furious eyes looking flaming red as they glared down at her. It screeched once before swooping down.

Faith bent her knees slightly and met it directly with her sword.

Sharp talons clashed with her sword and pushed her back a few inches, but adrenalin helped her ignore the pain in her shoulder so she could bring her right hand up to the flat of the sword and push with both hands. Glancing upwards, she saw a long neck curving and a flash of beak as it came closer to her.

"Shit!" hissed Faith, realizing just how exposed her back was in that moment.

She crouched lower and pushed against the talons with all her might. It didn't dislodge the bird, but it did upset its balance slightly. Slightly was enough for Faith, though, and, in a flash, she'd removed her right hand from the sword and dodged to the side with a spin, tearing the sword away as she went.

The demon bird squawked and waved its wings about frantically for a few moments. Faith gripped the sword in both hands and took a step back towards it – the big, long neck was its most obvious weakness and right now, it was close to the ground. She swung her sword and brought it down.

It hit the asphalt-coated ground with a dull clang. Faith cursed as she looked up at where the turkey dragon had flown away to at the very last second.

"Faith, behind you!" she heard Vi scream.

Faith tensed, suddenly realizing there was a presence behind her. She swung around to face it-

Her left arm was consumed with pain. She screamed. Almost distantly she heard her sword fall to the ground and then there was a dull thump. She reached for her arm and froze. And then realized she wasn't standing anymore, but kneeling down on one knee.

She looked to the left and saw two things. The biggest one was a demon with a small dagger sticking out of its right left eye and a crossbolt out of its chest. The second, smaller thing was a sword. Her sword. Except it wasn't just a sword – there was something holding it. Something familiar-looking and bleeding.

Faith suddenly felt very cold and realized she was shaking. This was a dream, she knew it was. It had to be. Slowly, she looked at the arm her right hand couldn't find. All she saw was a bloody stump.

Her breath was coming in short pants and Faith knew she was going into shock or hyperventilating or whatever it was that people did when they'd had limbs chopped off. Except that this couldn't be real; it had to be a dream, an illusion - some bastard had hypnotized her when she wasn't looking! It didn't even hurt anymore, it was just sort of... numb.

Without realizing what she was doing, Faith struggled to her feet and then stepped towards the demon. Renata was a really good shot, she idly realized; the bolt had gone straight through his heart. Boom: instant death! The demon's sword was laying on the ground next to it.

Faith picked it up and stared at it. It looked a bit blurry. Unreal. Funny, she couldn't even feel the wounds on her shoulder and back anymore; kinda like they weren't real either... Somewhere, she heard someone yelling frantically. She smelt blood. And felt something coming at her from behind.

Her hand tightened around the sword and she no longer felt cold. She felt angry, furious. She was _not_ going to die by way of demonic poultry. No fucking way.

Faith abruptly swung around and caught the talons aiming for her back and pushed them away. She didn't bother wondering why it suddenly seemed so much easier to do so. She could feel a fire burning somewhere deep inside her and she reached for it with all her strength. She let it consume her.

Just like that, the world was back in focus, sharper than before. She could feel flames burning behind her eyes and poured every once of anger she had behind it until she could see each individual scale on the demon bird's body as it came around for another dive. She met its eyes and could've sworn it faltered for just a second before swooping down once again.

Faith prepared herself, muscles tense in a crouch. When it was close enough for her to smell its breath, she leapt.

It was instinct, pure and simple. Suddenly, she just knew how the bird was going to move and as soon as she had landed on its back, she swung her sword backwards, knowing that was where its long - and very vulnerable – neck was going to be. It fell from the sky and Faith leaped off, landing gracefully on her feet, although she did stumble slightly afterwards.

She felt movement on her right and turned her head sharply to look.

Vi was holding a trashcan lid in front of her like a shield to block the last demon turkey's talons with one hand, while she parried its beak with her sword in the other. The bird's torso had about half a dozen crossbolts sticking out of it, all of which were bleeding heavily, but none of which looked particularly lethal. Vi looked like she was beginning to tire.

Faith screamed a warcry and charged.

Her sword sank deep into the bird's torso and the turkey demon screeched. It beat its wings frantically in an effort to get away, but Faith refused to let go of her sword. It screamed again as a bolt came flying in and lodged itself into the base of its neck. Then Vi lopped its head off and it went silent.

Faith let go of the sword as the turkey demon fell to the ground. It was over; she didn't need it anymore. She took a step backwards. She felt cold again and the world was spinning around her in circles. Maybe if she laid down for a bit...

"Faith!" she heard someone say. Or maybe they were yelling. It was kinda hard to tell. "Oh my god, Faith!"

She looked up into the face of a very bleary-looking Vi. A bleary Renata joined her a few moments later. The younger slayers looked worried. Very worried, on the verge of panic worried. And Faith suddenly realized she was sitting down. Which was good, because it was closer to laying down.

"Giles on his way?" she asked and wondered why her tongue felt so heavy.

"Ja, Herr Giles is on the way," said Renata.

Faith nodded. "Good. I'm jus' gonna lie down 'till he gets here."

"Uh, I don't think that's such a good idea," said Vi.

"Sure it is," Faith waved her concerns away sluggishly as she laid down. "Things that needed killing are killed now, so s'time for a nap."

Just before her eyes closed completely, she saw a figure staring at her from the sidewalk. It was a woman with dark skin and a grass skirt with white war paint all over her face and arms. Their eyes met for a split second and then Faith succumbed to unconsciousness.

Xander would swear the scene that greeted him when he arrived would forever be engraved into his mind and made immortal in his 'recurring nightmare material' hall of fame.

* * *

Yes, I am aware that I am evil. Review anyway?

Author's Notes:

**Cat Eyes **– According to a thread I found on petfanatics dot com, most researchers agree that cats can see colour, just not as well as humans, which is why the colours suddenly seem much brighter to Professor McGonagal when she shifts to being human again.

"**...see a world in every grain of sand, can see eternity in every single moment..."** - Oh how I wish I could take credit for this absolutely brilliant line. Alas, it belongs to T. S. Elliot from his poem _The Wasteland_.

**Turkey dragons** – Like most of the demons in this story, these are my own invention. Well, inasmuch as anyone can claim to have invented large flying demon bird things. Just to make it clear, though, when talking of 'turkey' in this case, think wild turkey, not thanksgiving turkey (or at least female turkey, which is white and skinny and rather ugly). Turkeys can be vicious creatures on their own, so flying turkeys that looked half-dragon was pretty much the scariest thing I could think of that wasn't house-size. Although, I suppose they could've been attacked by veloceraptors...


	21. Chapter 20

I apologize how long this took to write. Or rather, how long it took me to start writing it, because there were parts of this chapter that practically seemed to write themselves. That first bit? Nearly 6,000 words and it got written within the span of two days (and I managed to get housework done in the middle of that too!). Of course, not all of this chapter worked like that, but that part did and I'm especially proud of it.

Many thanks to everyone, who reviewed the last chapter and special thanks to **Biblios**, for betaing.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything recognizable. That includes the quotes I've borrowed from the _Harry Potter_ books, both of which are highlighted and should be rather obvious.

* * *

**Prophecy of the Four**

**Chapter 20 –** Making Connections

The night sky was beginning to lose its intensity; the stars were just a little dimmer, the blackness a little grayer. From her solid month of star-gazing, Professor Trelwany knew this meant she had no more than another hour or so left. She took a last sip of her tea – a special blend from Africa designed to stimulate the inner eye and promote visions – then closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She placed the empty cup onto the ground and opened her eyes before moving to the far edge of the astronomy tower's observation terrace.

It was something very intriguing she'd discovered during her long nights of staring at the night sky. This, right now, that last hour before dawn, when the night sky slowly moved from night to true twilight, this was when the most fascinating changes occurred in the sky. The damn horse wasn't usually worth listening to, but today his words had made her think about these changes she'd never paid proper attention to. Or, rather, she'd never quite paid enough attention to the clouds.

But tonight she would. Tonight she would watch the stars and clouds like a hawk. A nocturnal hawk.

She knew full well that no one believed her; they all thought her half-mad and powerless. The wizarding world had stopped giving credence to divinations and the power of prophecies. Yet as surely as she knew they all laughed at her, she knew they were wrong, could feel the power laying dormant within her bones, waiting to burst forth and prove her right. Just as she knew the stars had something to tell her, if only she could figure out the proper way to listen to them.

And so she gazed out at the sky, watched the warnings of an approaching destroyer and always kept a keen eye on the cluster of stars representing the queen. Then it happened. A cloud shifted, moving to another part of the sky, obscuring a message of on-coming doom and the professor gasped. There it was! A new cluster of stars appeared for a small moment, until a smaller, thinner cloud once again dimmed their presence. However, that short glimpse had been enough for her. The innocuous cluster of stars wasn't malicious, but the contrary, it was friendly, hopeful.

Whoever this destroyer was, they weren't an enemy, but an ally! Professor Trelwany smiled widely, hope lifting her spirit like even the most powerful cheering charm could not. Then perhaps, the doom the stars spoke of wasn't certain either.

She turned her attention back to the message of the queen, a new determination shining within her soul, sharpening her tired eyes. As though the sky itself had heard her, a cloud she hadn't even noticed before suddenly sailed by, covering part of the message, but uncovering several stars nearby. They were bright and a bit away from the queen, yet obviously surrounding her. Like a court. So, the queen wasn't alone, she had a court - she was a leader.

Professor Trelwany gripped the edge of the stone ledge tightly, forcing herself to calm down, before the excitement she was feeling affected her concentration.

She continued to stare, cataloging every change to the night sky no matter how small. Now, more than ever before, she was convinced the answer was right in front of her, just waiting for her to see it. Slowly, ever so slowly, the night sky lightened. And then the most peculiar thing happened. As the stars were fading away into the grey of the beginnings of twilight, one star began to shine brighter. The divinations professor stared at it in confusion, wondering what it meant.

An image of a pretty, dark-haired girl, flashed before her eyes and then a light wind blew into her face. She brought her hand up to wave away stray locks from her eyes and then a second bright light caught her attention. Trelwany turned away from the stars.

The crystal ball she'd brought with her on a last-minute impulse was glowing.

The twilight sky all but forgotten, the professor moved to kneel before it on shaking legs. Something important was happening. Finally. Taking a deep breath, she placed both hands onto either side of the crystal ball and peered into its depths. She was so absorbed in the mists within that she didn't notice how the light spread up her arms and encompassed her whole body.

* * *

_She ran after it through the graveyard, easily leaping over gravestones as she ran. She wasn't even sure what it was she was chasing, but Buffy knew she had to catch it. Her slayer senses told her it was there and every once in a while she would get a glimpse of it, but, damn, it was fast! She gripped the sword in her hand tighter, pausing for a single breath._

_There was movement to the right and Buffy was off again. She passed by a familiar grave and realized they were heading towards Spike's crypt. Maybe he'd be home and willing to help her corner this thing. Because this was seriously getting a bit ridiculous; she felt like she was running around in circles and nowhere closer to catching this thing._

"_Buffy!" a voice called out. Buffy stopped in her tracks and frowned. That wasn't Spike's voice._

"_Buffy!"_

"_Yeah?" she called back, turning around to face the voice._

_A warm wind blew into her face and Buffy sighed happily as she looked up at the beautiful blue sky. The day was gorgeous, warm with a slight breeze and just a few fluffy clouds that hang in the sky like pretty decorations. She took a step forward and had to adjust her balance when her foot wobbled a bit. Looking down she frowned, trying to remember why she had thought the fuchsia stiletto sandals were a good idea for walking around on cobblestone streets. Well, other than how well they matched the beaded bracelet and necklace she was wearing and looked amazing with her white sun dress._

_Deciding she would simply have to walk a bit more carefully than normal, she finally looked up at the person, who'd been calling her earlier._

"_Sorry, mom, I was spacing out for a bit there," she said with a smile as she walked up to her mom. _

_Joyce Summers smiled back indulgently. She was wearing a wide-brimmed straw hat and a long, green floral sun dress with brown sandals. There was an old man standing next to her that Buffy didn't recognize. He was rather unremarkable, though he had a long, white beard and was wearing purple robes with an assortment of moons and stars twinkling on them. Actually, he looked a bit like Gandalf, if he'd gone mad or perhaps gotten pranked. Buffy suspected the hobbits._

"_Italy's a beautiful country, isn't it?" her mom said wistfully. "Such a pity we couldn't all come here together."_

"_Yeah, and it's such a perfect day for a fair too," said Buffy with a happy smile. "Dawn will be sorry she missed it."_

_Buffy looked over the small Italian town. White-washed stone houses with terracotta roofs gleamed in the sunlight, each with a dark wooden balcony decorated with flowers, streamers and balloons. Beyond the rooftops on her right, she saw the cross and bell tower of a church – a beautiful gleaming gold atop bright red that made the roofs around it seem almost colourless in comparison. _

_She recognized it instantly; the Immortal had taken her here the last time they'd had a fair. It looked exactly the same now. People milled about the street talking, laughing and, in some cases, squealing over the folk music playing throughout the town square. While adults milled around; children ran around excitedly from stall to stall, their eyes taking in every toy, sugar stick, marzipan figurine, nougat square and almond candy._

"_Oh, I'm sure Dawn's got enough to do right now," her mother's voice broke through the happy rhythm of the fair. Buffy turned back to her mom, who smiled happily back at her. "Well, why don't you run along then, Buffy, Albus and I will be fine on our own and you have a lot you need to see."_

_Buffy wondered why her mom was being so vague. She shrugged it off. Maybe she had a hot date with some hansom Italian and didn't want her daughter tagging along. _

"_Okay, I'll meet up with you later then! Ciao!"_

_And with a wave, she was off into the lively crowd. On her way she picked up a bag of roasted chestnuts and some nougat. Then she simply walked around, weaving through the crowds of people and occasionally meeting the eye of some hansom young man. When she came upon the stall selling scarves she nearly squealed. She remembered this stall! _

_In a single step, she was there and looking over the beautiful lengths of silk hanging from several lengths of thin nylon rope, which they were attached to with clothespins. She gasped with delight when she saw a single green scarf amongst the rest. Gently, she reached for it, feeling it caress her skin as it opened up and showed her its design – a beautiful pink hummingbird in flight. She was so glad they still had it. She hadn't bought it last time and had regretted it ever since._

"_Oh, that's a really pretty scarf," said a familiar voice._

_Buffy looked up and smiled._

"_Oh my God, Cordelia!" she cried as she embraced her friend. "What a total coincidence! What are you doing here?"_

_Cordelia chuckled as she returned the embrace. The two parted, smiling warmly at each other. Buffy noticed the slight changes in her old friend; she'd cut her hair, and was wearing a grass green halter top and short jean skirt with matching green sandals and big hoop earrings. She looked more mature than Buffy remembered, but there was something else too. Somehow, Cordelia just looked older, her eyes less innocent, more world-weary and Buffy recognized that look – she saw it in her own mirror often enough. _

"_Buffy, Buffy, you of all people know that very little that happens in the world is genuine coincidence," Cordelia said with a smile. "Especially around you."_

_Buffy frowned, suddenly realizing there was something about Cordelia she was supposed to remember. Had Willow mentioned something about her? She'd have to call her when she got home._

"_So, are you enjoying the fair?" Cordelia asked, interrupting Buffy's thoughts._

"_Oh yeah, I love this one. I've been to it before you know. You should try the nougat, it's to die for."_

"_Mmm, I love nougat. And you should really go see the fortune teller they've got here. She's really good."_

"_Fortune teller?" Buffy racked her brain. Had there been a fortune teller here last time? "I don't think I saw her last time..."_

"_We brought her in specially for this one. She's the real deal."_

"_I'm not really sure that I want more people telling me about my future. I've kinda gotten a bit tired of being told I'm going to die or everyone else is going to die."_

"_Maybe this time she'll tell you someone else's future."_

_Buffy frowned._

"_Someone else's future? Is that even allowed? I mean, isn't there some sort of confidentiality clause or something?"_

_Cordelia shrugged. "Don't think so. I mean, I sure told enough of other people's futures."_

"_Oh, right, I remember Willow telling me about that. Wait, if you're a seer, then why don't you just tell me the future?"_

"_Because this is a fair."_

_Buffy laughed. "Alright, alright, I'll go see the fortune teller, but if she starts telling me the world's going to end I'm splittin' outta there. Hey, you wanna come with? We can go grab some espressos after and catch up."_

_Cordelia smiled widely._

"_Sorry, can't. I've got a big date to get ready for."_

"_Ooh, anyone I know?"_

"_No. You might hear of him eventually, but you definitely don't know him now. He's not one of the major players, though he will become one of the most important ones."_

"_Oh, will I get to meet him then?"_

_Cordelia's smile dimmed._

"_No, I don't think so," she said softly._

"_That's sad then," said Buffy lamely, not knowing what to say to the sadness she could see in her friend. "I hope the date goes well anyway," she offered._

"_Thanks, me too." Cordelia beamed at Buffy again. "It was good to see you again, but you should probably go now."_

"_Okay. It was good to see you too."_

_Buffy walked away. She was glad she'd been able to see her friend again. Then, just as she realized Cordelia hadn't actually told her where to find the fortune teller, she felt something bump against her leg. She looked down. A big, black dog looked back at her. It could've almost looked frightening if not for its ferociously wagging tail and the thick wreath of flowers around its neck in place of a collar. Buffy leaned down an scratched it behind the ear._

"_Hey there, boy," she said as the dog panted happily, lolling its head to the side to give her better access. She laughed before straightening again and looking around. "Sorry, but I've got to find a fortune teller. She's supposed to be really good."_

_The dog barked and ran a couple of steps ahead of her, before looking back at her and then barking again. Buffy cocked her head curiously. Did the dog know where she needed to go? She shrugged._

"_Okay, Lassie, lead the way," she said. The dog shot her a confused look and Buffy grinned._

_She followed it across the town square and through narrow streets, past brightly-decorated shop windows, bustling pubs and cafes and the smells of fresh coffee, baked goods, flowers and beer. They finally came to a gap between the stalls, where the dog stopped. Buffy came up beside him and saw that the gap was, in fact, the entrance to an alley. It was a narrow alley and not very long, but at the end of it there was a purple flap of fabric and the first thought that entered Buffy's mind was that it was a rather odd place to set up a tent._

_She looked down at the dog._

"_So that's the fortune teller, is it?" she asked it._

_The dog barked and then nudged her leg. Buffy laughed._

"_Alright, I get," she said. "Thanks boy!"_

_The dog barked a farewell, before loping off towards something more interesting. Buffy watched it until it disappeared behind a group of teenagers blowing bubbles and then she turned to the alley. It didn't look foreboding or mysterious and her slayer senses weren't tingling, so Buffy strode up to it without more than a slight hesitation._

"_Hello," she called, pushing the flap of fabric aside as she entered the fortune teller's tent._

_Inside, the tent smelt of incense and dried herbs. In the centre of the tent was a small table with a black satin cloth draped over it and two large, white candles sitting on either side of a crystal ball on top of it. Strings of beads and feathers hung from the tent's ceiling, which Buffy had to weave through as she made her way to the table. There was a chair, so she sat down._

"_Hello?" she called again, looking around the tent to see if the fortune teller was somehow hiding in a dark corner._

"_So you are the queen," an airy voice suddenly said and Buffy started. Sitting across from her, on the other side of the table, was a very strange-looking woman. She was exceptionally thin with large, round glasses that Buffy cringed at. Her slight figure almost disappeared within the mass of robes and beads and other jewelry adorning her. She looked like something between a hippie and a gypsy, as though she couldn't decide what kind of fortune teller she would be so decided to just combine everything into one hideous ensemble. She was eying Buffy with open curiosity and astonishment. "You are the one, who will bring change."_

_Buffy blinked. She went over what the woman had just said._

"_Me, a queen?" she said. "I'm not a queen."_

"_Oh, but you are. The stars say you are."_

"_Oookaay. So anyway, a friend of mine told me to come here. She said you were good, that you could tell me the future. I mean, you're the fortune teller, right?"_

"_A fortune teller? No, child, my name is Sybil Trelwany and I am a seer. I teach divinations at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."_

"_Oh. Well, I guess that would make you the real deal then." Buffy frowned. She was sure she'd heard of Hogwarts from somewhere. Was that where Dawn was going to school? Except she didn't think Hogwarts was in Italy..._

_Her thoughts were interrupted as the crystal ball suddenly began to glow and Sybil Trelwany froze, her eyes going blank._

_"__The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches. Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies. And the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not. And either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives. The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies...__**"**_

_As the woman spoke in a dull monotone, Buffy felt shivers crawl down her spine. Her eyes then caught the sequence of images whirling within the glowing crystal ball. She saw a baby with a scar on its forehead and the parents, who had died protecting it. Most peculiarly, though, she somehow knew it wasn't the future she was seeing, but the past. Then she saw an image of a boy, about eleven or twelve years old, with unfashionable round glasses sitting at a long table and surrounded by other children his own age. He was laughing at something his neighbour, a red-headed boy, said._

"_**It will happen tonight. The dark lord lies alone and friendless, abandoned by his followers. His servant has been chained these twelve years. Tonight, before midnight the servant will break free and set out to rejoin his master. The dark lord will rise again with his servants aid, greater and more terrible than ever he was. Tonight before midnight the servant will set out to rejoin his master..." **_

_And then the images changed. Buffy saw a new image of the same boy, a bit older now and looking tired, a little bit desperate and a lot in pain. His arm was bleeding and he was tied to a tombstone. Facing him, stood a dirty, disgusting-looking, rat-like man with one arm that was holding something wrapped in a bundle of dark cloth, his other arm a stump that looked freshly cut off. He stood beside a large cauldron, face contorted in pain as he carefully lowered the bundle into it._

_There was no sound coming from the crystal ball, but Buffy could see the boy begin to scream, the scar on his forehead burning a bright, painful red. Orange-red light suddenly washed over his face as the cauldron burst into flames, which flared brightly for a few minutes before dieing out abruptly, leaving a cloud of smoke in their wake. And in the midst of that smoke, something moved. A shadow grew, became taller... stood up and walked out of the smoke._

_Buffy stared at the figure. She'd seen more terrifying things in her time (could very easily name a good twenty off the top of her head without thinking too hard, she was sure). He reminded her a bit of the Master with his bald head, red eyes, flat facial features and long fingers – though oddly enough, he looked both more human and less human than the Master. As the man-creature looked himself over and examined his elongated appendages, Buffy suddenly realized what it was that had struck her as so frightening about this man. _

_Despite his reptilian face, his red eyes and too-skinny fingers, she knew without a doubt this man was still human – his humanity corrupted to the point of nearly being unrecognizable, yet still, at his core, human. Buffy felt repulsed by him in a way very few demons had ever made her feel. Even Caleb, who had literally given his body and soul to the First had felt more human than this man she was seeing in the crystal ball._

_The man gestured to his one-armed minion and Buffy's eyes widened as saw him take a wand from his hand. He pointed it at the minion's left forearm, where she could see a tattoo of some sort, and the minion grimaced in pain as it glowed. For a few minutes, nothing happened. And then dark-robed figures wearing dark hoods and white face masks started popping up around them. _

_Buffy gasped. She recognized those figures. They bowed to the man – no, Buffy suddenly realized – to the **Dark Lord Voldemort. **And Buffy suddenly remembered she'd heard this story before._

_White mist encased the scene._

"_**The Snake is not the king of beasts, but the Lion cannot win."**_

_Buffy looked up from the crystal ball, startled, but not really surprised, to hear the familiar line come from the seer's mouth._

"_That boy," she said after a pause. "He's Harry Potter, isn't he?"_

_The seer, Sybil Trelly or something she'd said her name was, blinked, her eyes becoming animated once again and her whole body relaxed._

"_What was that, dear?" she asked. "I'm sorry, my mind wasn't altogether here for a moment."_

_Buffy raised an eyebrow, but refrained from commenting on just how much 'here' her mind seemed to be now._

"_The boy, the one with the dark hair, really bad glasses and scar on his forehead, he's Harry Potter, right?"_

"_Yes, that does sound like Mr. Potter. Poor boy, always ends up with all the worst fortunes..."_

"_I can relate to that," Buffy muttered._

"_What was that dear?"_

"_Nothing, nothing at all."_

"_Oh." She paused and Buffy shifted uncomfortably in her seat. Was the seer done? Was she supposed to leave now?_

"_So, did you have anything else to tell me? I mean, the show was informative and all, but it all kinda seemed like the past and aren't you supposed to tell me the future?"_

_Sybil turned a very solemn pair of eyes at her. _

"_The future is very serious business," she said, her voice soft. "But I suppose you're the queen, so I can tell you."_

_Buffy rolled her eyes. "Yeah, whatever, sure I'll be the queen. The crown better not be anything big and gaudy though, or I abdicate."_

"_It's all very confusing. I've spent the last month reading the stars and I was very confused indeed. You see, I kept seeing warnings of a destroyer and then a queen. But then the horse mentioned the clouds and so I watched closer, tried to see not what was in front of me, but what they were hiding. And tonight, finally, I have had success! You see, I thought the destroyer was an enemy, but it turns out we were wrong, the destroyer is not a malicious force! And the queen – yes, the queen is the important one! She will come to us with her court and she will bring change. Or else change will follow her, but either way she – "_

_Here the seer stopped and pointed to Buffy with a ring-covered finger._

"_No, __**you**__ must come, because whatever this change may be, it is necessary. The stars do not say whether this change is good or bad, only that it must happen. For the queen and the destroyer shine brightly in the sky, but catastrophe lingers along its edges."_

_Buffy nodded._

"_I think I understand," she said. "I'll come."_

"_Thank you," the woman opposite her whispered. Then she blinked. "Oh, my stars, here I am inviting you to Hogwarts like this and I don't even know your name!"_

_Buffy laughed._

"_I'm Buffy," she said. "Dawn's older sister."_

_She wasn't sure why the woman needed to know this. But, for some reason, it felt like the seer might know Dawn._

"_Buffy? What an unusual name. I'll see you this evening then, Buffy."_

"_See yah!" Buffy stood up to leave. She paused at the tent flap and turned with one last smile. "And, uh, thanks for the fortune and explainy stuff!"_

"_You're welcome."_

_Buffy exited the tent and walked into a vast room. _

"_Wow."_

_Her stilettos click-clacked on the stone floor as she wandered towards the centre of the room, her eyes riveted to the ceiling. The room's walls were made of large stones – like in a castle – but the ceiling... the ceiling was impossible, because it just wasn't there. Instead, Buffy saw the sky, full of dim stars and the grey colour of twilight, as it was only moments before it was hit with the first bright rays of dawn. Even more spectacular, however, were the rows upon rows of candles hovering in the air and illuminating the room._

_It was magical._

_Buffy spun around, grinning happily at the sight. She was so used to magic being a tool, something used by her enemies to harm and by her friends to protect. This magic was neither; it's only purpose was to be beautiful. And it certainly served its purpose well._

_She finally looked away from the ceiling to scan the rest of the room. She was facing a large set of wooden doors, obviously the entrance. Four large tables surrounded by a multitude of chairs ran along the length of the room, two on either side of her. There was enough seating to accommodate an army._

_Or a school._

_Buffy suddenly realized the tables looked familiar. They looked like the ones in the image the seer had shown her with the boy, Harry Potter. This was where he went to school! _

_Something new caught her attention and she looked up. There were two shields hanging proudly on the wall. One was red with a golden lion roaring in the centre of it. The second was golden with a black badger. She looked to the opposite wall. There were two shields there too: one with a silver snake on a green background and another with a bronze eagle on blue._

_Buffy cocked her head as she stared at the eagle shield._

"_What is-?" The sound of fluttering wings interrupted her and her head snapped automatically to the noise. _

_Perched on one of the chairs beside her now sat a dignified-looking great horned owl. Buffy blinked at it. The owl blinked back. Eventually, Buffy noticed the pink scroll attached to its leg._

"_Um, is that for me?" she asked it._

_The owl hooted at her, holding out its leg. Carefully, she approached it and untied the yellow ribbon holding it in place. No sooner had she taken the scroll away, the owl took off. She watched as it sailed through the air, towards a hole in a corner of the wall, just above the grand entrance doors. Then she turned back to the pink scroll in her hand. She easily snapped the wax sealing it and then unraveled it._

_Three words were scrawled in bold ink in the middle of the parchment._

**Remember the Phoenix. **

_She looked up and stared at the empty town square around her. The fair was over and everyone had left, leaving a sad, desolate space full of abandoned stalls, thrown-away candy wrappers and torn up streamers. A single, lone blue balloon danced in the wind, forgotten. She turned around..._

_...and saw she'd finally made it to Spike's crypt. She'd been right, the monster had come this way. She hoped the vampire was home, 'cause this creepy crawly was becoming a real pain in the ass to hunt down. She ran down the stairs and pounded on the door._

"_Hey, Spike, you in there?"_

_No answer. Buffy huffed in annoyance and kicked the door down._

"_Spike?" she called as she stepped across the threshold._

And opened her eyes with a loud gasp of breath, her heart beating as though she'd just swam the English Channel.

"Buffy! You're awake!"

"Huh? Wha- yeah?" was the most intelligent response Buffy was able to come up with.

Her eyelids felt heavy, lashes stuck together with remnants of sleep. She yawned widely and used her right hand to rub the sleep out of her eyes, while propping herself up into a sitting position with her left. For some reason her limbs felt stiffer than usual. She stretched and her back popped with a satisfying crack. Throwing the covers aside, she swung her feet over the edge of her bed and looked out the window.

The sky was streaked in a gorgeous pallet of pink and blue hues. It was still early, so why did she feel like she'd slept for a very long time?

"Are you okay?" the same voice from before asked.

Buffy looked to Lori, confused by the worry in the other woman's voice.

"_Um, yeah, I think so," she answered slowly, wondering if there was a trick in the question. "A bit _sluggish, but otherwise fine."

"Oh thank God. We were so worried... Rupert will want to see you as soon as you're able."

"Woah, back up there! What are you talking about? Why were you worried?"

"You wouldn't wake up! Giles and Willow both tried to rouse you – of course Willow could've tried more powerful spells, but we didn't want her using up too much of her magic on you when there were bigger priorities."

"Wait, are you saying I pulled, like, a Sleeping Beauty or something?"

"Well, if you disregard the distinct lack of Prince Charming in the whole waking up process, then I suppose that would sum it up quite nicely, yes."

"How long have I been asleep for?"

Buffy's throat suddenly tightened as visions of her sleeping for days - no weeks - on end while her sister was still somewhere in Scotland and her friends had to fight the Dark Lord without her... She hadn't slept through the apocalypse, had she?

"Not that long, thankfully." Buffy breathed a sigh of relief. "We only discovered it about, oh, four hours ago or so, when Xander came to wake you up, because you hadn't been answering your cellphone. You didn't seem to be in any pain or distress, so Giles decided we could stand to leave you alone until the other things had been dealt with."

The tightness in her throat eased and Buffy was certainly glad she hadn't slept through anything important. Knowing Dawn was safe only calmed part of the whirling ball of tension inside her, because she was still very much not where Buffy could see her or yell at her or grab hold of her. She was at Hogwarts... at _Hogwarts_.

That single thought was all it took for a cascade of images to suddenly tumble through Buffy's mind – it was in that instant she remembered her dream. Her mom, Cordelia, the castle with the shields and the seer. And the seer's message: she was the queen and the queen needed to come and bring change. Buffy needed to go to Hogwarts, to where Dawn was, where Harry Potter was.

She looked outside again, trying to decide what the quickest way would be to get to Scotland. Once she got to the general vicinity, she could call Spike and get him to pick her up, which would mean she could arrive at the school sometime in the afternoon, early evening at most.

Buffy frowned, something occurred to her. The sun was only just coming up. She hadn't slept through an entire day, only one night.

"Lori, why were you guys trying to wake me up in the middle of the night anyway?" she asked. "Did something happen?"

Lori sighed, looking slightly annoyed and Buffy wondered if the woman had already told her all about it while she'd been lost in her own thoughts.

"Faith and her team came across a number of demons attacking some civilians and it got ugly." The older woman paused. "Very ugly."

Buffy's eyes widened. "Are they okay?"

"Renata and Vi were both badly wounded, but nothing their slayer healing can't handle in a day or two. Faith, however... well, it's not good. She's in the hospital and – Buffy? Buffy?"

Buffy was out of bed and out the door before Lori had managed to finish her sentence, rushing downstairs to find Giles.

* * *

Minerva McGonagal looked out her office window. It was a beautiful, sunny day outside and, as was her yearly custom, she found herself wishing she was still at her small cottage. Nothing to worry about except her roses (she didn't have much of a green thumb, but she did love her roses) and strawberry bushes, with only housework, trips to the local market and the occasional de-gnoming to distract her from her sanctuary of books, tea and the occassional glass of elderberry wine.

Minerva made a face. With the war and her own duties for the Order of the Phoenix this year's summer break wasn't nearly as restful as usual, but it had certainly had its moments.

She sighed and was about to turn from the window when a rather peculiar dark shape in the distance caught her attention. She would not have thought much of it, except that it seemed to be moving towards the castle. The deputy headmistress tapped her wand against her temple and whispered an incantation. She had to blink a few times against the sudden dizziness that always accompanied that particular spell, as her eyesight was magically stretched beyond its normal scope.

Momentary dizziness gone, Minerva realized the dark shape didn't look any less peculiar up close and it took a few moments for her to figure out what it was. It was a massive, dark black umbrella, which appeared to bob in mid-air as it made its way down the path towards Hogwarts. It suddenly swerved to the side and she saw caught a glimpse of two figures walking along side it for a moment. Two very familiar figures.

Minerva smirked – with no small amount of relief – and dispelled the charm on her eyesight. Summoning a house elf, she instructed it to go down to the infirmary to inform Mrs. Weasley her son and his friends had just returned. Then she left her office in order to greet her wayward students personally.

* * *

Harry, Ron and Hermione were all smiles as they barged through the main doors of Hogwarts. Though both physically and emotionally exhausted, their relief at finally being 'home' - and the knowledge they'd been ultimately successful in their mission – managed to overshadow the confusion over their dubious victory.

Connor and Spike were also grinning as they followed behind them, Spike gleefully stroking the folded-up, super think, dark black umbrella that was twice his height and weighed just as much as the small tree Hermione had transfigured it out of. He was very happy he hadn't had to stay in the car until the sun went down. Carefully, he leaned it against the edge of the door.

When he turned to follow the others he was surprised to find they'd stopped. Well, Harry, Ron and Hermione had and Connor looked as though he'd gone a few paces ahead of them and then stopped when he'd realized they had. Spike walked over to them and blinked, following their wide-eyed, horrified gazes.

"It's a cat," the vampire stated, blinking in confusion at the tabby that calmly sat in the middle of the entrance hall, watching them imperiously.

"Actually," said Connor, sniffing the air, "I'm not sure that it is."

"H-Hermione, what day is it?" Harry asked quietly, his eyes not leaving the cat.

"The eighteenth of August," Hermione answered in a horrified whisper.

"And what day were the professors due to arrive back at the school?"

Spike stopped paying attention to the wizard children as the cat began to morph into a human figure. A few moments later, a stern-looking woman stood in place of the feline, staring coldly down at the children.

"Misters Potter and Weasley and Miss Granger, how nice of you to grace us once more with your presence," said the witch (for she could be nothing else, not with the dark robes and tall, pointy hat). "I would be very interested to know where in Alastor Moody and my instructions to you about not leaving the school under any circumstances, the three of you found leave to go gallivanting across the countryside with a vampire."

Spike almost felt a bit sorry for the three students. But mostly he found the whole thing very amusing.

"Professor, I'm sorry, but-" Harry began. The woman cut him off with a glare.

"I suggest the three of you, first of all, go get something to eat from the kitchens, as you are likely quite hungry, and then proceed up to the hospital wing, where Mrs. Weasley is anxiously waiting for you." She paused, seeming to consider something. Spike heard Ron whimper. "Assuming, of course, she isn't already on her way down. The twins' condition isn't exactly life-threatening after all."

"Mum's here?" Ron asked, his cheeks the same shade of pale as when he'd stood face to face with the demon tiger.

The Professor nodded. The redheaded boy gulped. Spike took a quick glance at the others and saw Harry and Hermione looked equally terrified. He then noticed the slight twitch in the corner of the woman's mouth and grinned.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" she demanded. "There will be a meeting in a few hours and I dare say you'll rather not be dealing with both Mrs. Weasley _and_ Alastor Moody at the same time."

Spike didn't think their eyes could get any wider, nor their faces any paler.

"Y-yes, professor, we'll see you later then," Hermione finally managed to get out, before the students turned as one and fled from the entrance hall.

"Never realized being a teacher was so much fun," Spike drawled. The professor turned her attention to him and raised an eyebrow. "You are an evil, evil woman and if I 'ad an hat, I'd be tipping it to you."

"I take it you're Spike," she said dryly, though her eyes looked amused, if a bit wary. Spike couldn't help but notice the wand peeking out of her sleeve. She was a smart woman as well as slightly evil.

"Yeah, that'd be me. And that one there's Connor."

Her eyes briefly darted to the boy on her left, before returning to Spike.

"I am Professor Minerva McGonagall, deputy headmistress of this school," she said. "I've already met Dawn and your other friends-"

A growl from Connor interrupted her.

"Dawn had better be alright," he said, eyes narrowed and threatening. The woman didn't even flinch.

"Of course the Bit's alright," said Spike, rolling his eyes. "Illyria and the other one stayed behind to protect 'er, remember? And the woman definitely doesn't look like she's been fighting Illyria."

Minerva McGonagall huffed. "I think you're underestimating us," she said.

"Nope, I just know Blue and I know what she's capable of. And I _know_ she doesn't give one lick about human lives so long as they don't try and get in 'er way."

Spike had to admit he was suitably impressed by the woman. The fear he smelt off her didn't show in her face or posture – she held her head high and her back straight without the slightest sign of tremblings. Dawn had probably told her he was no threat to the school, but the deputy headmistress clearly wasn't about to allow herself to be caught off-guard. She was ready to defend the castle if necessary.

Spike could admire that.

"You are welcome at Hogwarts only for so long as you do not harm anyone within the school grounds. And Dawn has assured me that you would all be leaving once the two of you were back with Potter, Granger and Weasley."

Connor snorted. "Don't worry, once the sun goes down we're outta here."

Spike shrugged. Well, it wasn't like they had any reason to stick around. And Buffy was probably going to yell at them already for taking so long. And there was that apocalypse to worry about...

Minerva McGonagall nodded.

"Good. Your friends are still in the library. I'll have the house elves prepare some food for you and bring it up."

"You're going to let us eat in the library?" Connor asked, surprised. "Isn't that usually against school rules. Or at least is has been in every library I've ever been to."

She raised an eyebrow at him.

"I'm assuming you are not children and are capable of eating like civilized people without making a mess or dirtying any of the books."

"Well, yeah but-"

"Then there shouldn't be a problem."

"It was a pleasure to meet the two of you. I shan't be seeing you off, so I hope you have a safe journey home."

The professor turned to leave. Spike watched her approach the staircase going up and smirked. Just as she reached the first step, he called out to her.

"Oi, Minnie!"

She froze, before slowly turning around, scowling at him furiously. Spike cocked his head arrogantly.

"A word of advice, if you ever come across another vampire. Don't look 'im in the eyes. 'S not my style, but if I'd 'ave been Dru, you'd've told us all about the castle's defenses by now."

He could see her jaw clench and nearly burst out laughing.

"I'll keep that in mind," she said stiffly.

Spike grinned after she'd turned away and began walking up the stairs again. Then he turned to Connor and the two of them headed to rejoin Dawn and the others in the library.

* * *

The first thought Anthony had as his mind began to wade through the murky depths surrounding it towards the spot of distant light that was consciousness was: 'Bloody hell, must've been Mitchel mixing the drinks again last night."

He groaned as his eyes flickered open only long enough for him to establish that it was much too bright outside. He'd probably been too drunk to remember to close the blinds last night. And closing them now would require getting out of bed. He began to turn onto his side, away from the evil, evil sunlight, stopping with a strangled cry when pain flared through his shoulder and hip. His eyes opened wide, the pain acting like an instant wake-up call.

Okay, he thought, so he definitely wasn't hung over. He gritted his teeth as he struggled against the pounding in his head to breath through the pain, hoping it subsided quickly into something that felt less like he was being dipped into molten lava.

He also realized he hadn't been roommates with Mitchel Bennet since his undergraduate days and, not only was he longer a student, but also just so happened to be the Prime Minister of England. Had he been in any less pain, he might've felt a bit overwhelmed by the sudden shift from humble student to prime minister, but as it was, it felt a bit like a minor detail. Then he also remembered the wizards and their war. Oh, and the demons.

When he no longer felt like the left side of his body was trying to tear itself away from the rest of him, Anthony carefully moved his neck to the left to get a look at his surroundings. He didn't recognize them. Although, if the electric lamp on the bedside table next to him and the i-pod dock sitting on top of the shelf against the opposite wall, were any indication, he wasn't in the Wizarding World at least.

Ever so slowly and carefully, he turned his head to the right, his neck protesting with a sharp jab of pain if he moved it too quickly. Halogen lights on the ceiling were yet another indication of the non-magicalness of wherever it was he'd awoken in. Finally, he managed to turn his head around enough to be able to see the bare and well-bandaged torso of Kingsley Shaklebolt.

There were tubes sticking out of him and his neck was in a brace, but the tall black man was breathing.

He heard a door softly open and the close.

"Oh!" a soft female voice exclaimed.

Anthony tore his eyes away from Shaklebolt's prone form and slowly turned his head back towards the door that had been next to the bookshelf with the i-pod dock. There was some shuffling to his left and then, by the time he'd managed to turn his head, there was a woman with long, brown hair tied back in a neat french braid, staring down at him.

"Welcome back to the land of the living," she said with a smile as she held out a glass of water with a bright pink straw sticking out. "Here, you must be thirsty. Careful though, your throat is likely to still be quite sore."

Anthony gratefully took a few tentative sips. It hurt to swallow, but the cool liquid felt wonderful as it flowed down his throat.

"Th-thank you," he rasped when he was done. "Where am I?"

She smiled down at him as she placed the glass onto the bedside table.

"You're welcome. My name is Anora and this is the Watcher's Council."

Which didn't help him in the least. His blank look must've conveyed his confusion adequately enough, because the woman chuckled before standing up.

"I'll just go and get Rupert then, shall I?" she said. "He'll explain everything to you."

Anthony inclined his head in thanks, grateful that Anora didn't seem to expect a verbal reply, because it felt like there was a fire happily burning inside his throat. She paused for a few moments to check the IV attached to his arm and then disappeared from his line of sight. Once again, he heard the door open and close softly.

He must've dozed off again, because suddenly he was opening his eyes to the sleep-blurred profile of an unfamiliar man sitting at his bedside reading from a rather massive book. Also, the room wasn't as bright and his head no longer felt like there was an elephant marching band stomping through it – more like lightly tapdancing baby elephants. He tried to sit up and winced, a hiss of pain escaping him as his body reminded him (felt more like it was shouting at him really) why he was laying down in what had to be a clinic of some sorts in the first place.

"Oh, you're awake," a soft-spoken voice said. "Please don't try to move around too much. You've suffered a rather nasty head injury. Just a moment, um..."

The man seemed to fumble with something Anthony couldn't quite see and suddenly the bed he was laying on began to vibrate slightly. He soon found himself moving forward as the top half of the bed folded up. It stopped once he was mostly sitting upright. He got his first proper look at his surroundings.

The room was immaculately clean and white-washed, except for the baseboards and doorframe, which were painted royal blue. Someone had clearly taken the effort to infuse the room with hints of colour to offset the stark whiteness of the walls, ceiling and furniture. He'd noticed before that his table lamp had a bright red shade on it, but now he could see that every bedside table in the room had an identical lamp, each with a different colour shade. There were also several flower arrangements sitting atop small, white wooden stools (it was difficult to tell whether or not they were real) and a beaker full of oddly-assorted pens sitting on the counter to his far left. The counter was placed against the wall with cupboards both above and below it as well as a small fridge at its right end. It was clear of just about anything except for the beaker of pens and a cardboard box marked "Gloves".

The room held seven hospital beds with matching IV stands, though he and Shaklebolt were the only two patients at the moment. Out of the big window to his left, Anthony could see greenery and wondered whether there was a garden outside, since he certainly couldn't hear any traffic. He suddenly wondered whether he was even still in London.

The man sitting next to him cleared his throat and Anthony turned his attention to him.

He wore glasses, which, coupled with a tweed jacket and jeans, reminded Anthony of one of his former history professors from uni. However, he looked younger – probably not much older than Anthony himself was actually - and certainly less foreboding than his former professor had been. In fact, the longer he looked at the man, the more he realized the only things he and his former professor had in common was the tweed jacket. Whatever drugs the lovely nurse had pumped him full of while he was unconscious were likely also helping with the resemblance. Apparently, morphine made his mind hark back to his university days.

"Would you like some water, Mister Prime Minister?" the man asked.

"Y-yes please," Anthony rasped out, suddenly realizing that his throat felt as though it was an extension of the Sahara Desert, complete with sand and cacti.

As the still-unknown man – although, he rather expected he would turn out to be the mysterious 'Rupert', whom the nurse had headed off to fetch before Anthony had fallen asleep again – poured him a glass of water, Anthony suddenly realized he'd just been addressed by his title. Which meant the people here were not only non-magical, but also knew who he was. Of course, this made the situation even stranger, because wouldn't most regular people simply call a hospital if they found someone laying unconscious on the street?

Then he remembered the dark-haired warrior, who'd saved his life.

Anthony gratefully took the glass of water the man offered him and took several tentative sips until he was sure his throat could take it and then took several deeper sips. When he was done he handed the glass back.

"How are you feeling?" the man asked.

"Been better, but at least I'm alive," Anthony answered. It still hurt to talk, but at least he now sounded like he only had a nasty cold and his throat felt sore, not burning.

"Yes, you were incredibly lucky. If Faith hadn't decided to deviate from her normal patrol route she wouldn't have been able to save you. It seems the demons had put up a rather powerful barrier around the street, so that no one outside it would see or hear anything unusual occurring."

Well, that certainly explained a lot, thought Anthony. Now that he was no longer preoccupied with running for his life, he had wondered why no one had come out of their homes to see what all the racket was about. Every neighbourhood usually had at least one nosy neighbour (or one dozen as had been the case of the one he'd grown up in) and with all the yelling and screaming they'd been doing it wouldn't even be considered nosy to go see what was going on outside...

Also, where the hell had his regular bodyguards been? Usually whenever he said he wanted to take a walk alone they'd make a token protest before nodding politely and then wait until he was a block or so away before one of them got out of the car and discretely followed him (it had taken him months to learn to ignore this). Had they also been kept out of the barrier?

"There was a woman there," Anthony after a moment. "Long, dark hair, blood red lips and fiery eyes. She was like a warrior goddess, like Athena... She saved my life."

"Yes, that'd be Faith," said Giles, amusement dancing in his eyes.

Anthony felt himself blush. Morphine apparently made him a tad lyrical as well, it seemed.

"Yes, well, she was brilliant, whoever she was. I would like to thank her in person, if that's possible." He frowned. "She is alright, isn't' she?"

The amusement evaporated out of Giles' eyes like boiling water on a freezing day. His jaw clenched and the pain and sadness in his eyes terrified Anthony. The woman had seemed so strong, invincible even. Surely she wasn't...?

"She's alive," said Giles after taking a deep breath. "But she was badly injured, lost a lot of blood... You were unconscious for the worst of it. The demons that had attacked you called for backup after she and the girls arrived..."

Giles lapsed into silence, suddenly looking older than his years and Anthony knew there was more to this story. Faith was alive, but clearly not unharmed. What he'd seen had been bad enough; if something worst had come later then he was glad he'd missed it. He was also suddenly even more surprised they were all still alive.

Giles took a cloth out of his jacket pocket and began polishing his glasses. Anthony wondered whether they'd somehow managed to have the same history professor, because that was definitely one of the habits he remembered.

"During the ensuing battle, she... one of the demons managed to take her by surprise... She's lost an arm." The sentence was finished in a whisper, as though saying the words more loudly would somehow make them more real than they already were.

Anthony stared at the man, his mind a blank. He was alive and that girl – this valiant warrior named Faith – had saved his life and paid for it with a sacrifice of her own flesh. An arm. The warrior goddess from his oxygen-deprived, dazed memory had fought off demons without flinching; she should've been able to take a hit and then brush herself off and walk away laughing! Anthony looked down at his own two arms – one bundled in bandages and one slightly scraped up – and imaged one of them suddenly not being there.

"Where is she now?" he asked, still feeling numb, but with the urge to do something. He was the Prime Minister of England, dammit, and Faith had saved his life. He would make sure she had the best private room and the country's top doctor taking care of her.

"At the hospital," said Giles carefully. He paused to scrutinize Anthony silently, before continuing in a very neutral tone. "We have several private rooms on reserve at the Central Middlesex Hospital and regular, generous, donations ensure there are no questions asked when we send them a patient."

Anthony froze.

"Who's 'we', exactly?" he asked cautiously, hoping the question – or rather the answer – didn't earn him a pair of cement shoes and a trip to the English Channel. "And, for that matter, why am _I _not at a regular hospital?"

"Yes, ah, as for why you're not in a hospital... it's actually a rather embarrassing story... You see, neither one of the girls who rescued you are British and Xander, our current events expert at the moment, was rather busy being concerned about his badly-injured friend along with the rest of us. And, well, to be quite honest, we were actually more preoccupied with having a wizard, who might not be evil and you just sort of... came along for the ride, I suppose. It wasn't until Anora already had you all cleaned up, bandaged and hooked up that she realized why you looked so familiar." He shrugged. "Of course, knowing who you were put an entirely new spin on things, so I decided not to do anything until you'd awoken. Wouldn't want to contact the wrong person."

Anthony nodded. Yes, he supposed that made sense. One girl with a cut-off arm and a wizard with a deep ax wound certainly warranted more attention than him and he highly doubted he'd been looking anywhere near his best last night. After all, who would expect the random bloke getting attacked on the street by demons would end up being a world leader... except. They'd set up a barrier; they'd been prepared, possibly known he'd have a wizard with him.

Suddenly, his head was spinning and Anthony had to close his eyes against the dizzying sensation of movement, despite knowing perfectly well he was sitting down. For some reason, it had taken him this long to put the pieces together and he felt like a fool, the terror from the attack returning to him in full force and his newfound understanding lending it an even sharper edge.

In his mind, he'd been calling it an attack, but that wasn't right, because he now realized it hadn't been just an attack. Those demons had been sent after him. It had been an assassination attempt.

He took a deep breath. He had to calm down. It had been an attempt and it had _failed_. He had this girl, Faith to thank for that. He was safe now. He thought.

Opening his eyes, he saw Giles looking at him with a mixture of worry and sympathy in his eyes.

"I'm sorry," said Anthony. "I just – it hadn't occurred to me to think of it in that sense. D-do you think someone in the government was responsible for this?" He paused, eyes widening as something occurred to him. "Or, you- you don't suppose the wizards are behind it?"

Giles frowned. "I have no idea whether anyone in the government would be involved, but we rather thought you mind have an idea. Or at the very least you might know who definitely isn't involved and who can be trusted with knowing your whereabouts. As for the wizards... from what we've been able to figure out, wizards don't seem to have much contact with demons. Although, we do know that Lord Voldemort has been attempting to recruite demons and vampires to his side with at least some success given how many vampires there currently are in the city."

Anthony blinked. Was it too late to wish he had remained unconscious?

"From what you've been able to gather? You mean you're not connected to the Wizarding World?"

"No, not at all. It was really almost by accident that we stumbled upon them." Giles' expression darkened. "They also took one of ours. And altered the memories of two others."

"And that's why you're looking for wiz-?" Anthony didn't managed to finish his sentence as the sand in his throat suddenly became gravel and he erupted into a coughing fit.

Giles handed him the glass of water and Anthony gratefully took several large gulps. Once his throat had settled back to a more-manageable burn, Giles settled back into his chair. He took a handkerchief out of his jacket pocket again and began to methodically clean his glasses. The room was silent for a few moments. When he was done he replaced his glasses and then folded the handkerchief back up and stuffed it carefully back into the pocket. Then he took a deep breath and regarded Anthony with a thoughtful expression.

"Before we go off onto a wizard tangent, perhaps it might be wise to return to your original question," he began. Anthony nodded, realizing he still didn't know who he was dealing with, although some part of him trusted the man in front of him. "We are the Watcher's Council. I am the current head of the council and Faith is one of our senior slayers."

"Slayers?" Anthony asked, bewildered. "You don't mean to say she's actually a demon slayer?"

"Vampire slayer, technically speaking, but really it depends on whatever happens to be trying to eat people on any given day."

Anthony decided very quickly he would not think too hard on that statement, because his head hurt too much already and panicking would certainly not help the situation one bit.

"Perhaps I should start at the beginning?" Giles asked and Anthony thought 'Uh oh', but nodded an affirmative anyway. Because at this point he knew he couldn't very go back to being ignorant no matter how much he wished it, so he may as well know everything.

True to his word, Giles launched into an explanation that was rather more of an epic tale and Anthony wondered if this was some sort of strange destiny. Whether everything since the moment he'd become Prime Minister and heard a painting clear its throat – no, since the fateful moment in his boyhood when he'd decided he was going to one day become Prime Minister of England - had been preparing him for this moment, so that he could hear this tale and accept it as truth and not someone's fanciful creation.

Within the span of probably no less than half an hour, the world suddenly became a foreign place Anthony, it seemed, knew only very little about. True, he'd traveled half the world and met all sorts of different people both as a poor university student and then later as a politician. But those were only the 'human' people in the world, but there were demons and vampires and witches and probably many other things in this world.

His grandmother used to swear faeries gathered around the old water pump in the corner of her garden just before dawn and now he wondered whether she'd been right. If he'd gotten up early enough and snuck quietly to the half-rusted copper pump nestled in-between fragrant lilac bushes, would he have seen them?

But, most importantly, in this vast and terrifying new world he knew practically nothing about, there were slayers.

"These girls," he finally rasped once Giles paused to gauge his reaction. "They risk their lives. They... they're heroes and no one knows about them."

Giles looked at him, a sad sort of resignation in his eyes.

"It's the way it has to be. People can calmly live their lives in peace, without fear of the darkness, precisely because they don't know what's out there."

"That's what the wizards say," Anthony said before he could stop himself – or pause for a moment to realize that, well, maybe that wasn't entirely accurate, or fair.

"We do not meddle with people's memories, nor do we recreate the truth," Giles immediately countered the accusation, voice flat and eyes shining with barely-concealed anger. "Although we do often find it necessary to lie about knowing the truth, usually it's to avoid becoming Bedlam's newest tenants. You see, we've discovered over the years that, for the most part, humans do a very good job of reconstructing the truth on their own to make it fit into their comfortable world-view. Anyone, who's interested in the truth, can find it easily enough if they're willing to stretch their imaginations and acknowledge it. My colleagues and I aren't here to prevent people from discovering what lies in the shadows; we're here to make sure it doesn't kill them."

The vehemence in his voice startled Anthony. It sounded personal and he couldn't help but wonder whether Giles had had a bad experience with the Wizarding World in the past (although he couldn't actually remember having a good experience when dealing with wizards himself, so perhaps this was a sort of universal problem). Either way, Anthony would certainly never make the mistake of lumping the Watcher's Council together with the Wizarding World again.

A low moan from the other bed immediately caught the attention of both men. Giles looked over his shoulder before running to the door, probably to call for Anora. As the door clicked shut behind him, Anthony watched Kingsley Shaklebolt slowly struggle back to life. The exact moment the wizard became aware of his surroundings became instantly clear, because the wizard tensed, frowning in confusion.

First, he tried to move his neck, only to find he couldn't because of the neck brace. Then Shaklebolt moved his left arm, eyes widening at the sight of the needle embedded in it and then looking progressively more bewildered as he followed the tube sticking coming out of his arm to the bag hanging on a metal stand beside his bed.

Anthony grinned. Nothing thus far had managed to lift his spirits as quickly as watching the wizards face during his exploration of non-magic medical treatments.

"Wouldn't do that if I were you," he called to the wizard when Shaklebolt began to tug at the tape holding the IV needle in place. "The nurse seems nice enough, but I've learnt over time there are two people you never want to piss off: the one making your food and the one administering your painkiller dosage."

"Words of the wise," Anora's voice said from the doorway. Anthony turned his head to watch her close the door after her. She then winked at him playfully. "I should get that engraved on a plaque over the door. We can call it rule number two."

"Number two? What's rule number one?" Anthony asked with a frown.

"Don't die."

"Oh." Anthony paused, blinking. He thought she'd been joking. "Well, I can live with that rule. No, er, pun intended."

Anora giggled as she rushed past his bed and went straight to Shaklebolt, her eyes scanning the IV bags before she began examining the wizard. Anthony sat back and listened to her introduce herself and explain what had happened the night before. Giles eventually returned, followed by a petite redhead that couldn't have been older than 25 and looked as though she'd just been woken from a desperately-needed nap.

The look on Shaklebolt's face when Giles introduced her as the witch, who'd worked on healing his wound, was priceless. And the expression got even better when gradually found out that she was from California, had two non-magic parents, had never attended a magic school, and, no, she didn't use a wand. Anthony gathered this was all rather impressive, but what he found most fascinating was the wound itself once Anora took the bandages off to change them. The wizard did not look like he'd had an ax embedded in his shoulder less than 24 hours ago. The wound had been closed, although a thick line of angry-red scar tissue and scabbing still made it look incredibly painful.

Apparently, magical healing wasn't as instantaneous in real life as it was in the movies.

As Anora and the redheaded witch – whose name was Willow - examined Shaklebolt, Giles began asking questions about the Wizarding World. The dark-skinned wizard seemed very wary of Giles and Anthony had to admire his ability to think through his answers despite the medication he had to be on. The wizard flinched when Giles mentioned 'Lord Voldemort', but the name got him talking. Although, after listening for a while, Anthony couldn't help but frown, because Shaklebolt wasn't telling them anything they wouldn't have known just by asking him. He was giving them the Muggle-approved spiel.

One look at Giles and Anthony realized the Head of the Watcher's Council was well aware of this. Willow looked a bit confused, but listened patiently.

The door opened again, this time emitting a delicious aroma of food – chicken soup if he wasn't mistaken. Two girls entered. The first one was blond and looked like the eldest of the two, although still only about the same age as Willow. She wasn't very tall, but a red tank top revealed well-defined muscles and her eyes had a hard edge to them – this girl was definitely no pushover. She held open the door for the second girl, who was pushing a metal cart with two bowls of soup, some sandwiches and a couple of glasses of orange juice in front of her. This girl was probably closer to fifteen years old, but taller and plumper than the first one, with short black curly hair, a studded collar around her neck just visible over the neckline of a dark blue t-shirt containing the logo of some band Anthony didn't recognize and probably didn't listen to if the picture was any indication of its music style.

Suddenly, Anora was by his side and setting a bed tray in front of him, being mindful of the plastic legs so that they didn't jar any of his injuries. After she was done, the dark-haired girl began setting the food she'd brought in front of him.

"Thank you," he said with a smile, tearing his eyes away from the food in front of him in order to meet her eyes.

"You're welcome," she answered with a shy smile of her own. There was a slightly stunned look on her face - one he'd seen before at non-political dinner parties – as though she couldn't quite believe she was bringing lunch to someone she'd seen on television.

Once lunch had been served, the girl wheeled the cart to the far corner of the room, where it was out of the way and then left. The blonde remained. At some point in time during the whole lunch-serving process, Willow had gone to stand beside her and the two were quietly discussing something. Or rather, the blond was listening intently to whatever the redhead was telling her, occasionally stopping to ask a question, but mostly just nodding in acknowledgment.

Once the dark-haired girl had left, the blonde looked thoughtful for a moment, meeting Giles' eyes briefly, before apparently coming to some sort of decision. With a deep breath and a determined look on her face, she approached Anthony.

"Hi, I'm Buffy Summers," she said, her face suddenly lighting up with a wide smile that seemed to transform her into a completely different woman – one that should've been out shopping for shoes in a trendy sundress in downtown London while sipping an iced cappuccino, not standing in a medical ward where the topics of the day were near-death and demons.

"Anthony Davidson," he replied, holding out his unbandaged hand for her to shake. Her handshake was _very_ firm. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Summers. Or, at least as pleasurable as possible given the reason why I'm meeting you in the first place, I suppose."

"Yeah, demon attacks don't exactly have a tendency to be very pleasurable." Buffy paused and looked to Giles nervously. "I'm really glad Faith managed to get there in time to save you. And please call me Buffy; Ms. Summers takes me back to my high school days and reminds me of the principal I'd rather purge from my memory."

Anthony laughed.

"Very well then, Buffy. If you don't mind my asking, though, are you also like Faith? A demon - no, sorry, vampire slayer?"

The smile disappeared from her face.

"Yeah," she answered, pausing for a moment to take a deep breath. "Faith's doing alright, by the way. Giles said you'd asked about her and I was just at the hospital. She'd kinda in shock about the whole thing, but awake and healing. Physically, I mean."

Anthony nodded. "Is there- I mean, would it be possible for me to have flowers or chocolates or something sent to her." He paused at the surprised look on Buffy's face. "I realize it's nothing compared to having saved my life or losing a limb, but, well, it's a gesture of thanks I suppose."

"No, I mean, yes, of course, that'd be awesome!" Buffy blinked, looking at him as though she wasn't quite sure he was real. "She'd love it. Sorry, it's just that we're kind of all used to risking our lives to save people, but they don't always stick around to thank us, let alone send flowers." Her smile became blinding. "She'd love it. Makes me kinda jealous, really."

Anthony smiled back, determined now more than ever to make sure he sent the most amazing bouquet of flowers Faith had ever received. He'd have to recruit some help, of course. As he began to ponder who would be best to contact and how (if this had been an assassination attempt then he needed to be extra careful how he contacted the government to let them know he was alive), Buffy Summers shifted her attention to Kingsley Shaklebolt

"Hi, Willow tells me your name is Kingsley," she said with a bright smile. "I'm Buffy."

Shaklebolt nodded in acknowledgment, his expression wary. He clearly hadn't missed the 'this girl is important' vibes floating around the room. Anthony began to eat, not taking his eyes off the two. The wizard looked much better than he had a while ago, some colour having returned to his face.

"So, how're you feeling?" Buffy asked.

"I'm feeling much better," Shaklebolt answered. "I suppose I too owe my life to your colleague, Faith."

"Yup, you sure do. And since you realize that I'll cut right to the chase." Shaklebolt froze. "As soon as you're feeling up to the trip, you're taking me to Hogwarts."

The wide-eyed shock that exploded over the wizard's face was comical.

"H-how do you know about Hogwarts?" he demanded.

Buffy raised an eyebrow and folded her arms across her chest. The smile was gone.

"We've got our ways. Especially when someone messes with one of ours."

"I'll have to speak to my superiors-"

"Uh, I don't think you're getting the message here." Buffy's eyes were hard as rocks and her posture unyielding. Anthony almost felt sorry for Shaklebolt. "See we have your wand and one of my girls is now less an arm because of you. Because you _failed_ to protect the Prime Minister. So you owe us big time. And I've got someone at Hogwarts I need to meet and a sister to pick up. Plus, I'm pretty sure you want to go back to the Wizarding World, right? So really, this is a win-win situation."

She paused, taking in Shaklebolt's narrowed eyes. She smirked.

"Not that you have a choice, really."

* * *

Lisa Callaghan nearly dropped the sheet of biscuits she was taking out of the oven when the phone rang. Its shrill sound somehow always seemed louder when she was absorbed in doing something. With a practiced movement, she used her knee to close the oven door shut and slid the cookie sheet on top of the stove, before shucking off her mauve oven mitts and running to the front hall.

"Yes, hello? This is the Callaghan residence."

"_Oh, hello Lisa, thank God you're home."_

Lisa's eyes widened at the familiar voice.

"Anthony! What in the world... where are you? Norman called earlier. He said the government's in a complete panic, because you've up and disappeared and they can't find you!"

"_Yes, I figured as much which is why I'm calling you now. Listen, something happened last night. I-I was attacked. And... well... I'm pretty sure it was deliberate, that they knew exactly who I was."_

Lisa gasped, her empty hand flying to her mouth.

"Bloody hell! Are you alright?"

"_Yes, a bit scraped up and my head feels worse than the day after I got voted into office, but I'm alive. I got lucky."_

"Lucky? Where the hell were your bodyguards in all of this?"

"To be fair, I'm not sure if they'd have been much help last night." There was a dry chuckle, which dissolved into a hacking cough.

"Anthony? Are you alright?"

"_Yes, yes, sorry, I'm fine. My throat's a bit sore is all. Listen, I was wondering if I could get you to do me two favours."_

"Of course, anything."

"_Could you call your husband and tell him I'm alright. At the moment I'm recuperating at a sort of, um, medical ward run by the people, who rescued me. And, yes, I realize I could call him myself, but, well, I'd rather play on the side of obscene paranoia for the moment. I have no idea, who might've instigated this attack or if anyone in the government's involved, which could mean phone taps."_

"Okay, alright, I can do that. That's all you want me to tell him? That's you're alive and reasonably well?"

"_Pretty much. Actually, there's a second part of this. Could you please go to a florist and get the biggest, most elaborate bouquet you can and perhaps some sort of very nice chocolates and take them to the Central Middlesex Hospital to a young woman named Faith Machane? She saved my life last night and got very badly hurt. I really want to send her a token of thanks."_

Lisa raised an eyebrow, one that usually had her children squirming in their seats.

"_There will be several people visiting her. One of them will give you a cellphone. I need you to take it and give it to Norman. Tell him I'll call him on it later tonight – around eight or so, I'd say."_

Lisa was silent for a moment as she absorbed the information. She did genuinely like the younger man that was prime minister and had known him for years, but especially since her husband had been named finance minister. The man did tend to be a tad over-dramatic at times, but rarely without reason.

"Alright, I'll do it, but you owe me a big one."

Anthony laughed.

"_Thanks, Lisa. I'll definitely make it up to you."_

"You're welcome. And Anthony?"

"_Yes?"_

"Be safe."

"_I'll do my best. Bye."_

"Good-bye."

Lisa replaced the receiver and stared out into space for a few moments. She closed her eyes as a sudden wave of fear enveloped her – the world outside her home was becoming so dangerous. She took a deep breath and shoved the fear aside as she opened her eyes and looked into the kitchen, the half-finished batch of cookies mockingly staring back at her, a false sense of domestic safety. It looked like she wouldn't finish them today after all.

With a sigh, she picked up the receiver again and dialed her husband's cell.

* * *

"The Snake is not the King of Beasts, but the Lion cannot win," Dawn said out loud.

Four heads looked up at her from a space on the floor, where several tables had been pushed to the side. Draco, Connor and Illyria were huddled around a deck of cards with Azazella looking on from her perch atop a table. After a quick trip to the Slytherin dorm rooms (with Azazella's help), Draco was now teaching Connor and Illyria how to play exploding snap. Spike was still asleep somewhere in the back, where Draco had transfigured a few of the tables into simple beds.

"Huh?" said Connor after while, when it became clear Dawn wasn't going to elaborate on her cryptic statement.

"What do you think of when you hear that sentence?" Dawn asked, looking at them thoughtfully.

Connor blinked. "Uh, sounds to me like you've got yourself a stalemate." At Dawn's 'go on' look, he shrugged. "I mean, you've got a Snake, who's gotten really powerful for some reason, but still isn't as powerful as the Lion, but although the Lion's the most powerful of the beasts, he's not strong enough to actually defeat the Snake."

"You're assuming the Lion's more powerful than the Snake," Draco spat.

"The Lion is the King," said Illyria. "If the Snake were more powerful, he would kill the Lion and become the King."

"When you say Snake and Lion, are you talking about Slytherin and Gryffindor?" Draco asked with a frown.

"I'm not sure," said Dawn.

"Is this from that prophecy you found before you got abducted?" Connor asked.

"Yeah, it's the last line."

"Prophecy?" Draco looked a bit shocked, which quickly turned into annoyance. "Are you saying we've been staying at Hogwarts for all this time because of a stupid prophecy?" He snorted. "Trust a Muggle to believe in such nonsense."

The superior smugness disappeared from the blond's face at the pointed looks everyone else gave him.

"Remember how it really shouldn't be physically possible for me to be born?" said Connor with a raised eyebrow. "Yeah, my birth was prophesied, like a vampire messiah. Apparently I'm supposed to either save the world or destroy it."

Draco paled. Dawn chuckled.

"Sorry, Draco, but I'm gunna have to call you wrong on this one. I've seen more than one prophecy in my lifetime and they all would've come true if my sister and the rest of us hadn't stopped it."

"Do you know the rest of the prophecy?" Angela's voice suddenly asked, breaking the ensuing silence. Dawn looked at her and then nodded.

"In seven days created, in two shall be destroyed,

Three Ancient Ones gather: one forgotten, one found and one restored,

Two worlds meet and warriors must rise,

The Three are joined by a fourth, who alone the tale can tell.

Blindness gives sight; insanity, wisdom

- to see when black is white and white is black.

The Snake is not the king of beasts,

but the Lion cannot win."

Dawn finished and for a few moments no one spoke.

"Yes, that is her prophecy," Azazella finally whispered, her voice soft and without a trace of demon. Dawn's eyes snapped to the human-looking demon, eyes wide.

"You- you've heard this before?" she asked.

"Yes." The demon paused long enough to shed her human guise. She straightened herself to her full, proud warrior height and met Dawn's eyes. "It is the reason I stayed behind when my kin abandoned this dimension. Aeiha, the Mad One, spoke the prophecy as our army was departing. She told me I needed to stay, because when it came to pass I would be important. When it did, I would have a choice between two masters and my choice would set the path of the prophecy in stone."

Dawn felt - and no doubt looked - nothing short of shell-shocked. Her mind felt like a frozen computer. No wonder the prophecy was so unclear; it had hung in the balance by a choice. Dawn looked down at the notes in front of her. She'd swiped them from Hermione's pile just before the girl and her friends had gone off with Spike and Connor to chase a soul fragment.

"Weren't you a servant or something in Voldemort's lair before you got out with Dawn and Draco?" Connor asked.

"Yes. By the time I remembered I had a choice to make I had already made it."

There was a long, very silent, pause.

"Well, shit. Guess it's a good thing Dawn got herself kidnapped then, isn't it?"

"And I got injured by that Muggle magic stick thing," Draco added, looking just as stunned as everyone else. "Or else Angela would have never needed to go down to the dungeons to bring me a healing potion..."

"...and Dawn wouldn't have managed to get out of the dungeons on her own, probably. Which means Buffy would've probably launched some sort of rescue mission by now and that'd have made us enemies."

Draco didn't bother trying to hide the horror that thought provoked. Just then, Spike sauntered up to them with a big yawn. He paused when he caught the mood in the room.

"Oi, what 'appened?" he asked.

"Did you know there was a second part of the prophecy?" Dawn suddenly asked.

Azazella blinked once.

"No, all I have heard was what you have just spoken."

Dawn nodded absently. The statement had only confirmed what she'd already thought.

"Just before Spike and Connor left with Harry and the gang, I was walking by Hermione's note pile and one sentence caught my attention," she began.

"So you swiped 'er notes?" Spike asked with a grin.

Dawn smiled a bit sheepishly as she looked at the vampire.

"Um, yeah, kinda. I mean, she wasn't going to need them while you guys were soul-searching, right?" Spike chuckled. "Anyway, according to her notes, I think I've managed to figure out that Harry ran into someone named Phythia – who, incidentally told him he wasn't the Chosen One, because he didn't fit the bill or something."

Draco looked confused at the snickers that came from Connor and Spike. But Dawn continued.

"Anyway, this woman, who may or may not be human – and I'm thinking not since Hermione wrote that Phythia mentioned her kin being in the Deeper Well, although she has no idea what that means -"

"Deeper Well definitely means demon," said Spike with a frown. "Very old demon too. You're thinking this prophet is an Old One?"

Dawn shrugged. "Possibly. According to Harry she was also blind and crazy, so who knows. Anyway, the main point here is that not only did he run into her, but also someone named Ginny did-"

"Weasley's little sister," said Draco. Then he frowned thoughtfully. "At least, I think that's her name."

"Would make sense, not that it matters really. Anyway, this Ginny girl got part three of the prophecy."

"So, basically that means that whatever's 'appening in the Wizarding World does concern the council after all," said Spike. "So, you figure Voldemort's the Snake and 'arry Potter's the Lion?" The vampire grinned. "My money's on the brat for the arm wrestling competition. Always get a kick out of rooting for the underdog."

"Arm wrestling competition?" Connor asked, blinking up at Spike in bewilderment. "How did we get from discussing a prophecy about an apocalypse to arm wrestling?"

Dawn stared at Spike for a few moments, before groaning. "Oh," she said. "You read my notes. In my defence, I was really tired and frustrated when I wrote that and never actually meant to let anyone read it."

"Forget the arm wrestling, where did this apocalypse come from?" Draco exclaimed. Connor looked to him with a raised eyebrow.

"'In seven days created in two shall be destroyed' sounds pretty apocalyptic to me," he said with a shrug. "And when prophecies sound like they're telling you the world's about to end, they usually are."

"What are the other two parts?" a voice laced with power said before the wizard had a chance to properly freak out about the world ending. Illyria didn't look outwardly annoyed, but Draco flinched slightly. Dawn looked down at the scroll laid out in front of her.

"Right, so the part Phythia told Harry in-person begins the same way my part ends, but then it continues, like she wanted it to be clear it's a continuation of what came before it."

"The Snake is not the King of Beasts,

but the Lion cannot win.

Venom spreads throughout the land,

and, before it, the Lion crumbles.

The Snake's power will soar,

none born will have the power to oppose him.

Until the Dragon rises."

"Nice and ominous," Connor commented. "So now we've got to find ourselves a Dragon. I wonder if the one my dad fought in L.A. managed to survive; I wasn't entirely clear on that one."

"You know, draco is Latin for dragon," said Spike.

All eyes turned to Draco, who froze at the attention.

"Um... well, yes, i-it is, but I don't think-" he stammered out.

Dawn giggled.

"Relax, Draco, I highly doubt it'd be that obvious. If there's one thing you can count on a prophecy being, it's obscure and confusing. Aaanyway, part three brings back our wonderful apocalypse:

Seven there were, five remain and time is running short.

When the Snake grows wings, it will be too late,

And all will amount to naught.

Wings to see and wings to soar, his might will be too great.

But with this might, his eyes go blind, he cannot see the sky.

As his will be done, the end will come,

of what in seven days created was."

Spike frowned.

"There's no more mention of the Four Ancients, though," he said.

"Noticed that, did you?" said Dawn.

"The Snake will gain power and will become corrupted by it," said Illyria. "Then the Snake is likely weak, human. His inability to control his own power will result in the world ending."

"Most likely," Azazella agreed. "And was not seven the number of soul shards the children were looking for?"

"Yeah, it was, though I think Hermione said they already had three before we went looking for number four," said Connor.

Spike shrugged. "Maybe they only found the third one after the chit met this prophet."

Connor simply nodded in agreement. He sighed and leaned backwards onto his hands.

"So, does this mean you want to stick around for a bit longer to try and figure this out or-"

"No, I think I need to talk to Giles and Buffy at this point," said Dawn quickly. "We should follow the plan and leave at sundown."

"Hm. Then, you know what? Let me go check what the weather's like. If it's cloudy we can leave early." Connor jumped to his feet. "I'm going a bit stir-crazy hangin' out in the library all day."

"I'll go with you," said Draco, scrambling to his feet.

Spike walked up to the cards and looked down with a raised eyebrow. Illyria motioned for him to sit and began to explain the game as she understood it.

Dawn once again looked down at the prophecy in front of her, ignoring everything around her as she concentrated on the words. Carefully, she mulled over everyone's comments from before, trying to see if a different perspective might make something become clear. She knew there was something important she was missing, something right in front of her that she was on the verge of figuring out, but it kept eluding her.

She was so engrossed, she didn't notice when the two demon's heads suddenly shot up to stare at the door. She did, however, jump when the library door slammed open to admit an out-of-breath Malfoy.

"Dawn," he said once he'd caught his breath. "Connor sent me to get you. Your sister's here!"

* * *

Thanks so much to everyone, who bothered to take the time to read this! Now please review!

**Author's Notes**:

**Anora –** I haven't made it obvious, because I don't think it matters, but in case anyone's picked up on it: yes, this is Wesley's little sister. I'm going with the assumption that children from Watcher's Council families all go through training or are given some form of education that would make them useful to the council in some capacity. Such as, a healer. I don't believe we're ever told how old Wesley's sister is, so I'm making her old enough to have gone to nursing school (or at least some form of healing apprenticeship or something).

"evaporated like boiling water on a freezing day" - Figured I'd explain this just in case some of my readers live in warmer climates than I (lucky bastards). If the temperature falls far enough then hot water thrown into the cold air will actually evaporate before it hits the ground creating a sort of instant fog. Don't believe me? Do a YouTube search for 'hot water and cold air' and there's a whole bunch of videos to prove this. It's actually pretty cool. In theory. The cold that's required to put this into practice is not so cool... er, good.

**Bedlam** - The Royal Bedlam (which is a corruption of Bethlehem) hospital is a psychiatric hospital affiliated with Kings College London Institute of Psychiatry. It's been a part of London since 1247, although it didn't become a hospital until 1337 and didn't begin to specialize in the mentally ill until later. (thanks Wikipedia for the info!)


	22. Chapter 21

*Pokes head out from behind rock* Um... yeah, hi, I'm still here. Sorry for the ridiculously long delay. I'm not even sure what's taken so long on this chapter. Just... yeah... Anyway, hopefully the wait has been worth it. Thanks so much to everyone, who reviewed the last chapter and to **Biblios**, my lovely beta.

Disclaimer: I own only the P&P (Plot and the Prophecy).

* * *

**The Prophecy of the Four**

**Chapter 21 –** The Queen's Arrival

The halls were empty and unnaturally silent, the stillness making Draco shudder. It was almost a week ago that he and Dawn had arrived at Hogwarts, but the calm, studentless castle still felt completely alien to him. It was as though the absence of hundreds of children had robbed the castle of its very soul. Nearly a week and they hadn't even seen Peeves... though that may have something to do with the demons, now that Draco thought about it.

The wizard took a deep breath and watched the strong, relaxed back of the boy in front of him. Connor was completely out of his element and didn't seem anxious about it in the least, so Draco couldn't allow himself to appear nervous. He was a Malfoy, after all. At least he thought he still was. He couldn't begin to guess what had happened after he and Dawn had escaped. Did the Dark Lord know he'd gone voluntarily or did he think he'd been abducted? Was his father still ali – no.

Draco blinked away the pinpricks of tears that had begun to gather in the corner of his eyes. He refused to fall apart here. Once they'd arrived wherever it was they were going, maybe then. And so, Draco tore his thoughts away from his family, away from what had happened in the very recent past.

A different sort of anxiousness filled him. Suddenly, he felt rather giddy.

If the weather favoured the vampire, they would be leaving quite shortly: away from Hogwarts, away from the Wizarding World, away from everything Draco knew. He certainly hadn't thought this part through when he'd told Dawn he'd run away with her. Though, he supposed, he did still have a choice; he could always give himself over to the Ministry of Magic, or Professor McGonagall at the very least. It wasn't much of a choice, almost none at all. The Ministry would demand he tell them everything he knew, assuming they didn't just take one look at his Mark and throw him into Azkaban. Professor McGonagall would likely want him to help their side as well. He remembered half-spoken stories and whispered rumours of the heroes of the first war against the Dark Lord: the Order of the Phoenix.

It didn't take a genius to figure out the only person who could've possibly been the leader of the Order of the Phoenix was Albus Dumbledore. He also found it highly strange that with all the aurors that had been in the castle a few days ago – including Alastor Moody - the Ministry hadn't remembered to send someone back to collect him.

They turned a corner and Draco swallowed, his mouth suddenly very dry. He wasn't quite sure what he was hoping for. Did he want to leave now or in a few hours? Did it make a difference?

The blond knew he wasn't a very adventurous person – had the war not happened he would've been perfectly happy to follow the path his parents had laid out before him and been the perfect heir to the Malfoy name. It may have seemed dull to some people and he would've been lying if he said he'd never wondered what it would be like to do something different, like become a professional quidditch player, or even an auror. But none of those alternatives had excited him enough to want to fight his father for it and forsake his family name, even temporarily. He was a Malfoy and thus proud and powerful and as the family heir, he would spend his life doing everything in his considerable power to advance the family's name, position and fortune.

Venturing into the Muggle World was something that had simply never entered his mind. Talking to Dawn, discovering there was more to magic than what he'd been taught, than what the Wizarding World believed, intrigued him and he genuinely wanted to learn more. However, leaving the Wizarding World frightened him. No, terrified him.

If he left Hogwarts with Dawn and her friends, would he ever see the Wizarding World again? He could practically feel the crossroads he was standing on. It was hard beneath his feet and pressed against him from all sides, suffocating him with its weight.

Should he go or should he stay? Which was the correct decision? He desperately wished there was someone, who could tell him what to do. Would it be horribly crazy of him to run up to the Divinations Tower and ask Professor Trelwany to read his tea leaves for him?

Draco and Connor walked into the entrance hall. Draco saw sunlight creeping inside from under the door and breathed a sigh of both relief and frustration. Suddenly Connor stopped, blocking Draco's path with one arm as he stood still for a moment, staring at the door.

"What's going on?" Draco whispered with a frown.

"Someone's at the door," he said, sniffing the air. "I can smell blood."

Draco froze. Was the castle under attack?

He listened as the doors rattled and then watched as they slowly opened, letting in more sunlight. Then a figure began to stagger through and Draco noticed Muggle clothes and long, blonde hair. A second person came into view, this time in robes and he realized the first person – a woman – was staggering because she was supporting the second.

"Oh," he heard Connor say, but when he looked to his left, the boy was gone.

"Need some help there?" he heard him again and Draco blinked as he turned and saw Connor holding the door open for the two entering. Draco began to slowly walk towards them.

"Uh, yeah, thanks," said the girl with an American accent. She looked up at Connor and then smiled. "Oh, hey Connor. You've got perfect timing. I'm to pick up my sister and meet someone – well, a few someones actually – but first, I need to get this guy to the hospital wing or whatever."

"It's upstairs," said a slightly strained voice, which Draco assumed came from whomever it was the woman was supporting.

"Right, got it." The woman nodded. "Lay on, McWizard."

Connor chuckled and then turned to Draco, who was now surprised to note the woman wasn't that much older than they were.

"Hey, Draco, we're gonna head on to the medical ward," he said. "Could you go get the others and meet us there? Tell Dawn her sister's here."

Draco's eyes widened. A Muggle had managed to find Hogwarts? He supposed she'd had help from the wizard she was half-carrying, but still... Draco nodded and then turned on his heel, running back to the library.

* * *

They'd made it up the first flight of stairs when Buffy gave up and, ignoring the wizard's feeble protests, shifted his weight on her right shoulder and hooked her left arm under his knees. By now, Kingsley Shakelbolt was too tired from his injury and the teleportation spell he'd cast to get them both to Hogwarts to put up much of a fight. Willow had healed most of the ax wound and closed his smaller injuries, but couldn't do much for his energy levels.

"Okay, which way now?" she asked the wizard, because Connor had already mentioned he didn't have a clue where the hospital wing was.

"One more floor up and then to the left," said Kingsley with a sigh.

Buffy nodded and headed up the next flight of stairs, all the while ignoring the excitedly-whispering paintings all around her. She already knew all about the moving pictures from Spike – he'd even brought a newspaper from New York to prove it – but the talking she hadn't expected. Well, if the wizard in her arms managed to lose his fight with consciousness, then at least she'd have someone to ask for directions.

"Oh my, you're here!" Buffy heard a voice exclaim as soon as she'd reached the top of the stairs.

She turned towards it and froze, her eyes widening at the familiar-looking figure hurrying down the corridor towards her in a fluttering of shawls and a jangle of bangles and beads. She knew the dream had been more than just a dream, but it was still a shock to have it confirmed so unequivocally.

"You- you're really here!" the witch exclaimed, sounding a little out of breath and a lot excited. "I can't believe it! Buffy, the queen, you've arrived!" She reached Buffy and took several deep breaths and then smiled happily. "Welcome to Hogwarts, my dear."

Buffy smiled, hoping her expression didn't show how slightly wigged out she was about meeting the woman from her dream – not surprised, just a bit creeped out.

"Hi, Sybil," she said. "Sorry it took me a bit longer to get here than I thought it would, something kinda came up."

"That's alright, dear. I wasn't expecting you about until now anyway."

"Uh, right." Buffy shifted, uncomfortably. "So, anyway, I'm here and ready to, uh, bring change or whatever, but first I think this guy here kinda needs medical attention."

The seer blinked owlishly and then looked down at the man in Buffy's arms as though noticing him for the first time.

"Oh, you're Kingsley Shaklebolt, one of Professor Dumbledore's auror friends. You look quite dreadful; we should get you to Madame Pomfrey straight away."

She swept past Buffy and Connor without another word, not even bothering to see if they were following her.

"You know her?" Connor finally asked when the woman was just out of hearing range.

"It's kind of an odd story," Buffy said and cringed. "I met her in a dream."

Connor shot her a look. "Oh. Okay. I suppose I've heard of stranger things happening."

"Cordelia was there too."

"Cool. By the way, I think your wizard's unconscious."

Buffy looked down at the dark-skinned wizard. Sure enough, his eyes were closed and his breaths the steady, even ones of a person, who'd finally succumbed to the temptation of sleep.

"Then I guess we'd better follow the crazy seer lady."

"Won't be difficult with the trail of aromatherapy she's left behind."

Buffy snorted.

"No kidding," she said and then walked after Sybil, who'd only just now realized they weren't actually following her.

* * *

Albus Dumbledore was very, very lucky he was already dead, Minerva McGonagall decided. In fact, she had half a mind to find herself a dark wizard, who could bring him back to life just so that she could kill him herself. As it stood, she would have to satisfy herself with yelling at his portrait when it finally arrived next week. Perhaps there was a spell which enabled one to strangle a painting. If not, she could always invent one, she supposed.

She sighed and looked around the room. In retrospect, holding the Order meeting in the Hospital Wing might not have been one of her best suggestions; Madame Pomfrey looked a tad murderous at all the noise and yelling currently taking place within her domain. However, as her only patients did not actually require quiet, she was holding her tongue for the moment.

Remus Lupin was well enough to go sneaking off to the library whenever he had the chance (she had a sneaking suspicion he actually enjoyed traveling back via a blaze of black flames), so he definitely didn't need the quiet. And the three Weasleys were here thanks to the twin's foolish experimenting (Madame Pomfrey had yet to figure out what combination of spells or potions could possibly have given them such oddly-shaped, purple burns), therefore they could just deal with it.

If she hadn't been looking at the door in the hopes the solid wood would give her the strength she needed to get through this meeting without transfiguring anyone into a toadstool, she might not have noticed when the doorknob turned. Minerva quickly scanned the room. There was no one missing – well, except for Kingsley Shakelbolt who, according to Alastor Moody, hadn't been heard from since the previous evening. But he'd been on assignment from the Ministry, therefore surely his first stop would be Auror Headquarters and not Hogwarts. Unless...

She couldn't hear anything over the din of voices, but she certainly saw the door knob jiggle as someone obviously tried to open the hospital wing door. Minerva frowned. The knob jiggled some more. Then she heard a few dull thuds. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Mad-Eye look up at the noise, his eye whirling around madly as he tried to locate the source of the thuds.

"Silence!" Minerva called out harshly.

The room quieted almost instantly – an advantage to having half the room consisting of former students of hers. The thudding came again and this time everyone's eyes turned immediately to the Medical Wing's door.

"Madame Pomfrey!" a muffled voice could be heard calling from the other side. Minerva's eyes widened – that sounded like Professor Trelwany. "I'm sorry, dear, I don't understand why the door's closed. Madame Pomfrey!"

The healer was already half-way to the door when suddenly the doors shook violently when someone else – presumably whomever Trelwany had been speaking to – banged on the door.

"Hey!" an unknown female voice called. "I got a delivery of one Kingsley Shakelbolt for the Hogwarts medical ward! Wanna come get him or should I dump his unconscious ass onto the cold, stone floor?"

Minerva had enough time to register that there was yet another American inside the school, before she was running across the infirmary to help Madame Pomfrey unspell the locking charms on the door.

"Everyone, stand back, it could be a trap!" she heard Alastor take charge behind her.

"She tells the truth!"

She turned to a painting of the Hogwarts lake, where Sir Cadogan had apparently just trotted into on his pony. The knight bowed to the assembled witches and wizards whose attention he now had. He straightened his back and puffed his chest up as he gave his report.

"I have followed her and her friend as they ascended up the stairs and she is indeed carrying Kingsley Shakelbolt. They met Professor Trelwany in the hallway and it seems the young woman is known and was, in fact, expected by the professor."

Minerva blinked at that. Sybill was expecting this girl?

"Hellooo? Aaanybody home?" the woman's voice once again came from the other side of the door. "Did I mention the unconsciousness?"

"Oh, this is ridiculous," Madame Pomfrey huffed and then stalked towards the door, wand in hand.

"Poppy!" Alastor growled. "What are you doing, woman? It could be a-"

"Could be what: a deatheater?" Poppy swung around mid-stride to glare at Moody. "What exactly would it matter then, if I open this door? Whoever that woman is, she's already managed to get inside the bloody castle, hasn't she? And if she really does have Kingsley and he's injured, then it is my _duty_ as a healer to let her in!"

Alastor Moody had nothing to add to this, but he scowled at Poppy on principle. Minerva couldn't help a half-smile at the healer's small victory.

"Everyone, wands out and spread out along the wall," Alastor barked. Poppy accepted her small victory gracefully and continued to the medical wing door. Minerva followed to help disable the protection and anti-eavesdropping charms.

One the charms were undone, Madame Pomfrey wasted no time in flinging the door open. Sure enough, Professor Trelwany stood on the other side of the door, blinking owlishly at them. Just behind her, Minerva spied the young man, who had been introduced to her as the son of a vampire. However, most of the deputy headmistress's attention was immediately taken by the petite blonde woman in Muggle clothes holding Kingsley bridal-style as though he weighed no more than a first-year student. She looked annoyed and then somewhat amused as she looked Minerva up and down.

"Oh my!" Madame Pomfrey exclaimed as she hustled through the door to visually assess her new patient. "It's Kingsley all right," she called to the others (though Minerva suspected it was mostly aimed at Alastor). "And this young woman is definitely not a death eater!"

"What, me, a death eater?" the young woman exclaimed, making a disgusted face. "Eeeww, I wouldn't be caught dead in those hideous black robe thingies!"

"How do you know she's not a death eater?" Moody demanded as he took a few steps forward. Poppy ignored him.

"Her arms are bare," Minerva answered.

The young woman in question shot Minerva a confused look as Poppy ushered her towards a bed where she could carefully set her load down. It was the confused look more than anything that convinced the deputy headmistress that the girl couldn't be a death eater. Or even a witch for that matter...

A feeling of slight dread began creeping up her spine. She looked to the doorway, where Professor Trelwany was hovering, rubbing her hands in worry. Behind her, the boy, Connor, leaned against the doorframe, observing everything with keen eyes that Minerva was sure missed nothing. He felt her watching and looked up, tilting his head at her, a smirk playing in the corner of his mouth.

"What happened to him?" she suddenly heard Madame Pomfrey ask. Minerva turned her attention to the two women standing by what was now Kingsley Shakelbolt's bed.

"Demon attack," said the blonde woman, suddenly very serious. "Got knocked around a bit, then took a battle ax to the left shoulder blade. Willow closed the wound and Anora says she gave him a tetanus shot and some antibiotics to prevent infection and then pumped a couple of bags of blood into his veins."

To her credit, Madame Pomfrey looked like she had a vague idea what the girl was talking about. However, it was Mr. Weasley, who beat her to asking for explanations.

"Oh, is that Muggle medicine you're talking about?" he asked as he shuffled forward, ignoring his wife's hissed warning to stay put. "Did they actually use a needle and thread to sew the wound together? I hear that's how Muggles do this sort of thing."

The blonde woman looked at him with a blank expression on her face and blinked a few times. She then looked past Arthur to the others standing along the other side of the room.

"Uh, yeah, normally they would," she finally answered. "But Willow's a witch, so she just magicked it close. It was a really bad wound, though, so all she could do was a sort of quick patch to keep him from bleeding to death. She had another go at it earlier today, but he's definitely not all hunky-dory yet."

"A witch?" Minerva said before she thought about it, because, well, actually that would make a lot of sense since the young woman in front of her was certainly not a witch, therefore it stood to reason that she would know one. How else would she have known to take Kingsley to Hogwarts? And that was likely how she knew Professor Trelwany as well.

"I'm still not convinced she's not a very clever spy," Moody growled, stepping forward until he was standing beside Minerva. The deputy headmistress rolled her eyes. "For all we know, she could be a werewolf."

Suddenly, the woman's eyes narrowed, a steely glint appearing in them. She slowly stepped away from the infirmary bed and folded her arms across her chest.

"You say that like it'd be a bad thing," she said in an even voice. "Which would be kinda hypocritical of you seeing as how you've already got one in the room with you."

The room froze.

"How do you know that?" Moody demanded, taking another step towards her as he raised his wand.

She calmly walked out to meet him – no, it wasn't quite a walk, more like the fluid moving of a predator – stopping once she'd cleared the bed by about two steps. She barely looked at the wand being aimed at her, instead evenly met the auror's suspicious glare.

"The full moon's in just over a week; I could feel the wolf from the hallway."

"Who are you?"

"Someone who's going to show you a regular Sunnydale-style ass-kickin' if you don't get that wooden stick thing out of her face real soon."

Moody scowled. Minerva frowned at the mention of Sunnydale. That was where Dawn had said she was from...

"Buffy!"

The cry drew everyone's attention away from the veteran auror and the blonde possible-Muggle to the doorway, where Dawn stood beside Sybill looking like she's just ran the entirety of the castle. She paused for a moment to stare at the blonde. And then her face split into a radiant smile.

"Dawn!"

The two young women met half-way in a tight hug that instantly became its own little world, a small space that denied everything and everyone around them existence. Even had she not heard the name before, the desperation in their embrace and tears of happiness and relief she could glimpse would've told Minerva exactly who this blonde woman was: Dawn's sister.

Minerva couldn't help the smile or the prickling of moisture at the corners of her eyes as she watched the two young women reunite. They were whispering to each other

"I thought you said the girl was an ordinary Muggle," Mr. Weasley said, suddenly standing beside Minerva.

"She is, more or less," Minerva answered and then raised an eyebrow at Moody's snort.

"They're from the Hellmouth," the grizzled auror spat, his eyes watching the two young women like a very suspicious hawk. "Nothing ordinary ever comes out of the Hellmouth – the place breeds darkness like it does rats."

"And vampires," a new voice called from the doorway. Minerva's eyes snapped to the doorway, which now had a platinum blond vampire leaning against the wall beside it, his arms crossed over his chest and eyes staring intently at the wizards. "the 'ellmouth never had a shortage of vampires."

"Spike!" Remus gasped from his hospital bed.

The two sisters sighed practically in unison and then stepped away from each other, rolling their eyes.

"Spike, behave," Buffy said with fond annoyance.

Dawn giggled. She turned to look back at Spike. Sure enough, he was casually leaning against the wall, perfectly still except for his eyes, which slowly surveyed the room, taking in every little detail of every single person in the room. He was studiously projecting a menacing aura, making sure everyone in the room knew he was dangerous. Beside him, Connor leaned against the door frame, hands stuffed into his pockets and looking for all the world like he was horribly bored with everyone going on – although Dawn knew full well he was likely just as aware of what was going on around him as Spike was. Azazella stood just outside the other side of the doorway, her appearance human as she peered into the room. Behind her, Dawn saw Draco peeking into the infirmary nervously.

She couldn't see Illyria, but figured the demon goddess had simply got distracted by something in the corridors. Hopefully none of the talking paintings had decided to annoy her. Seeing the entire group she'd spent the past few days with made Dawn's smile widen. Spike noticed when he met her eyes and the intensely dangerous look in his eyes was momentarily infused with a heavy dose of mischief as he winked at her.

Such a simple gesture, yet it filled Dawn with a warm glow. For the first time in weeks, she felt safe. Buffy stood beside her and her other friends were there to back her up: everything was going to be all right.

"Not that we're not glad to see you here and all, but what are you doing 'ere?" Spike asked Buffy.

Dawn blinked. That was a good question. She turned to her sister, letting her eyes communicate her own curiosity. Buffy sighed.

"Last night Faith took her girls through a different patrol route than usual and interrupted a demonic assassination attempt on the Prime Minister-" Dawn's eyes widened. Buffy pointed with her thumb at the wizard laying and currently being examined (at least that's what Dawn assumed was what the woman wearing white robes waving a wand at hm was doing) on a bed behind her. "Mister tall, dark and wizardy there was the PM's magical bodyguard."

Spike snorted. "Didn't do a very good job of it, apparently."

Buffy shrugged. "Well, to be fair it _was_ a trap. Someone set up a barrier that prevented him from teleporting out and then threw about a dozen big, nasty demons at him. Faith and her girls barely made it..."

The way her sister trailed off at the end and the pained look in her eyes frightened Dawn.

"Are they okay?" she asked. Faith may have started off as an enemy, but whatever else could be said about the dark-haired senior slayer, she was a survivor. She always came back. And unlike Buffy, she didn't die first.

"They're alive."

Out of the corner of her eye, Dawn noticed the look that passed between Spike and Connor.

"You know, Buffy, 'alive' isn't all that specific, especially for us," Connor called out.

"Well, looks like Faith'll be playing the one-armed bandit from now on," Buffy attempted to quip, but the joke fell flat as the group realized what that meant.

Spike cursed colourfully in Fyarl.

Dawn gasped, stepping back. "Oh my god!" she whispered, her hand coming up to cover her mouth. "Will she be – I mean, can she still..."

"I don't know." Buffy shook her head sadly.

Someone cleared their throat.

Dawn turned to where Professor McGonagall stood looking at them pointedly. Sympathy shone in her eyes despite her strict demeanor. Dawn flashed her an apologetic smile.

"Uh, sorry professor," she said. Then she turned to Buffy. "Buffy, this is Professor Minerva McGonagall, deputy headmistress of the school. Professor McGonagall, this is my sister, Buffy Summers."

Buffy looked the woman over once, before smiling pleasantly at her. "Hi, nice to meetcha. Thanks for taking care of my sister while she was here."

The creepy goggly-eyed man snorted. "'S not like we had much of a choice with them demons she had protecting her."

"Demons?" Buffy frowned. "There was only supposed to be one demon..."

She looked back to the group by the door, where Illyria had finally joined them wearing her Fred-guise. Her eyes stopped and widened when she saw Angela and Dawn knew her sister had to be feeling the ancient demon vibes coming off the woman even more than she could. She touched Buffy's arm gently to get her attention.

"I'll explain later," she whispered. "But she helped me and Draco escape the bad guy's dungeons."

Buffy's gaze flicked over to her briefly and then the slayer nodded slowly. "Alright, as long as she's definitely on our side, then splainy bits can wait."

Buffy turned happily back to the wizards and opened her mouth. Then she paused, closed her mouth and frowned. She looked back to Dawn.

"Wait, Draco? Who's Draco?"

Dawn blinked. "Oh, right. I forgot you hadn't met him." She pointed to where Draco was now leaning against the wall next to Spike. "Blond kid next to Spike. Hey Draco, wave!" She called to Draco, before whispering to her sister. "He's coming with us, by the way. Long story there too."

"Of course there is," Buffy muttered just loud enough for Dawn to hear. She smiled and waved back as Draco scowled at her and waved (it had taken an elbow nudge from Spike and a sing-songed 'Wave to the nice girls, Draco' to get the boy to wave at all).

"Aaanyway, that's missions one and two accomplished: one wizard delivered and one sister found. So I guess that brings us to mission three, which means you're up, Sybill."

Dawn frowned, although, she reminded herself, she really shouldn't be surprised by anything her sister did at this point, since she had no idea what brought her to Hogwarts in the first place. However, she was still somewhat relieved to see the wizards around her looking just as surprised and confused as she felt. A roomful of confused frowns all turned expectantly to look at a very odd-looking woman (and considering what _everyone else_ looked like, that was decidedly telling). She wore glasses that made her looked bug-eyed and was dressed more like a circus gypsy than a witch.

The woman blinked at all the sudden attention, which made her look both completely clueless and innocent.

"Mmmm...?" she began. Meeting Buffy's expectant expression seemed to rouse her, however and suddenly a spark of excitement flared in her eyes. "Oh, yes, yes, of course." She turned to Professor McGonagall and with a seriousness that seemed at odds with her ridiculous outfit, she spoke.

"Last night, the stars gave me a revelation. The Queen is not our enemy. She will bring change, but the change is necessary if we are to keep the darkness at the edges of the sky from overwhelming us. When I had finally learned what the stars had needed me to, then I, well, I suppose I fell asleep and met Buffy here."

Someone snorted and Dawn was sure it was Ron, but she was too busy looking to Buffy for confirmation of the woman's story. Buffy met her gaze and gave a slight smile and shrugged, as if to say 'hey, we've seen weirder shit'. Dawn found she couldn't really argue. She looked back to the odd-looking witch (Dawn was guessing a seer by the fact that she'd been trying to read stars in the first place).

The woman's eyes were now the most lucid they'd been since she'd entered. And they were looking straight at Buffy.

"She is the Queen. And she is here to bring change."

The tone of her voice was steady, strong in a way that didn't seem entirely natural and her words echoed deeply within Dawn's soul. Even without knowing what they meant, Dawn knew they were truth. Like she'd known the prophecies were important, like she'd known she needed to stay at Hogwarts instead of heading straight to London.

She also knew none of it made sense. Yet she knew it was all related, everything was connected. If only she could find the connection...

"That's ridiculous!" she heard auror Alastor Moody exclaim.

"What kind of change could a mere Muggle bring about in the first place?" the red-headed man beside him asked (Dawn wondered if he was maybe Ron's dad), although there was curiosity in his voice.

"Falling asleep means you were dreaming!" Harry exclaimed and Dawn looked over to where he, Ron and Hermione were standing. He looked rather annoyed. Ron looked exasperated, like he couldn't quite believe what he was hearing. Hermione, on the other hand, was looking at Buffy with a thoughtful expression on her face.

Buffy rolled her eyes at Harry's comment.

"Well, duh, of course she was dreaming," said Buffy. "How else did you figure we met while on opposite sides of the country considering you guys don't have the internet, 'cause it apparently wouldn't be medieval enough to go with the decor?"

"You met in a dream?" Professor McGonagall asked, eyebrows raising in a very nice rendition of Giles – all she needed were the glasses to peer over.

"Yup."

"Was it one of, um, _those_ dreams?" Spike asked, before wincing. Dawn and Buffy winced along with him, because, really, that just sounded horrible. Horrible and oh so plain wrong. But they both understood what he meant.

"Uh, no," Buffy answered. Then she frowned. "Although I think Cordelia might've been in it... But, no, it was just an ordinary dream. Well, ordinary except for the weird intra-dream communications and even weirder non-sequential wanderings. Oh, and the enchanted sleep that no one could wake me up from... Okay so maybe calling it an ordinary dream would be understating it a bit, but it wasn't a... yeah...that."

"Are you trying to tell us that you were enchanted and somehow dreamed of Professor Trelwany, whom you've never met before, who told you to come to Hogwarts?" Hermione asked.

The girl had a slightly disgusted look on her face, but Dawn could tell she was trying to hide it, or perhaps fighting against her initial reaction to what would have been a ludicrous claim if one took magic out of the equation. Of course, for these people, magic _was_ the equation, which meant they had no reason to think Buffy's and the crazy-looking seer lady's claims were at all ludicrous.

"Yep, that pretty much sums it up," Buffy answered brightly. "There were some other bits, but I'm not sure how important any of them are or what they mean."

"Such as?" Professor McGonagall asked.

Buffy frowned. "Not sure, really. I... I just know there was more. I was in Italy at a fair my boyfriend took me to and my mother was there." Dawn's eyes widened and she met Draco's eyes. "Oh, and I think I was here, at Hogwarts, in a big hall with long tables and shields on the walls... there was something about the shields, but I can't remember now. Maybe if I saw them again. Anyway, this owl flew in and gave me a message..."

Buffy was silent for a few moments, lost in thought and trying to remember what came next. Dawn now met Spike's eyes and she knew they were on the same page – Buffy never had any problems remembering slayer dreams.

"Remember the Phoenix," Buffy finally whispered. "That's what the message read: 'Remember the Phoenix.'"

A stunned silence followed those words, which seemed to surprise Buffy as much as it surprised Dawn. The wizards were staring at Buffy with wide eyes and a few gaping mouths. Apparently, the phoenix meant something to them.

A chuckle from the group by the entrance broke the tension. It was Draco. Who blanched when he suddenly had the attention of every single wizard, demon and everything else directed at him. Spike mumbled something that Dawn didn't quite catch, but it made Draco smirk.

"I just figured something out," Draco said to Spike. Then he turned and pointed at Professor McGonagall and the others. "They're the Order of the Phoenix."

Dawn heard a few sharp intakes of breath. Buffy looked down at her with a raised eyebrow, but Dawn simply shrugged. She had no idea what Draco was talking about either.

"Malfoy..." Harry growled, attempting to be threatening – and it would've worked too had Draco not been flanked by a vampire and two demons.

Draco ignored his fellow student and looked to Dawn and Buffy.

"The Order of the Phoenix is a secret – sorry, _was_ a secret society, as it's not much of a secret at the moment – founded by a group of witches and wizards during the first wizarding war separate from the Ministry of Magic in order to fight against the Dark Lord. My father always figured it was probably created by Albus Dumbledore and filled with his favourite students-"

"Ha!" Ron suddenly exclaimed. "That proves it! You're definitely a spy! How else could you possibly know that?"

Draco's eyes narrowed at the redhead. "My father's a death eater, a part of the inner circle. Of course I know about the Order of the Phoenix. It's also mentioned in quite a few books about the war."

Buffy looked down at Dawn with a raised eyebrow.

"His father's a death eater?" Dawn nodded. "I'm guessing there's a really good story behind that."

"Oh yeah."

"But you're sure he's on our side?"

"Yup, absolutely. I'll tell ya later. For now, let's just say he got the tattoo 'cause he had no choice, but couldn't stand the working conditions. Oh, and the benefits sucked."

The corners of Buffy's lips quirked in amusement, but she accepted her sister's story without another word. It probably helped that Spike and the others didn't seem to have a problem with the boy either. Of course, while Dawn's word was good enough for Buffy, it didn't seem to be good enough for the rest of the assembled wizards. The Summers sisters turned their attention back just in time to hear Auror Alastor Moody announce that Draco would be accompanying him to the Ministry of Magic for interrogation.

Several others echoed the sentiment. Draco paled and his eyes widened. His eyes desperately searched out Dawn.

"Uh, actually, Draco's leaving with us," Dawn said loudly.

Spike chose that moment to get out his long dagger and use it to clean his nails. Dawn resisted the urge to roll her eyes at him amidst the stuttered protests of the wizards around her.

"Preposterous!"

"Absolutely not! He's a dark wizard and the son of a highly-ranked death eater, we cannot let him leave with some mere Muggles!"

"He's wanted by the Ministry of Magic, he needs to be secured in auror custody!"

Beside her, Buffy sighed.

"Are you sure he's worth the trouble?" she asked Dawn. Dawn shrugged.

"His mother asked me to save him, because our mother came to her in a dream and told her I could."

Buffy's eyes widened and her head snapped around to stare at Dawn incredulously. Dawn, in turn, tried for the most earnest I'm-really-not-kidding look she could muster. She felt relieved when Buffy's incredulous look hardened into determination. She nodded once to Dawn and stepped back into the argument, which seemed to have lost its second half and morphed into a debate between Moody and McGonagall as to whether or not they should take Draco to the Ministry after the Order was finished their own interrogation.

"Right, so I think you missed the part where Draco's coming with us," Buffy began, "And I think you're also missing the second part where we weren't asking for permission. And where we have the weapons and demons to back that up."

She paused for long enough to smirk, allowing the Slayer to show in her eyes.

"Not that I'd need them."

Dawn sent Draco a reassuring smile. The blond was clearly terrified and Dawn was certain that, had he not be surrounded by Spike and the others, he would've already been running. His wide-eyed expression of surprise at hearing Buffy essentially threaten the resistance against Voldemort on his behalf was comical.

Not surprisingly, said resistance wasn't all too thrilled with Buffy's speech. Professor McGonagall looked flabbergasted, as though she couldn't quite understand where this tiny blonde in front of her found all this arrogance. A few of the other wizards around the room – Dawn blinked a bit at the bubble gum pink hair wearing an auror uniform – looked outraged. She stepped away from the wall and walked up to her fellow auror, stopping just behind him. Auror Alastor Moody looked as though he were three seconds away from actually blowing steam out of his ears.

Dawn turned away from them, knowing her older sister was more than capable of handling a few angry wizards. Especially since these were the good guys, therefore lethal force would not be on the agenda. She hoped. Either way, Dawn had no illusions that when they left, it'd be an immediate decision with no time to say any last good-byes. So, while Buffy - with Spike as sarcastic and antagonistic back-up - argued, Dawn made her way to the bed where Remus was sitting, quietly watching the proceedings.

He looked up when she approached the bed.

"Hey, how're you feeling?" she asked.

"Oh, I'm feeling fine, thank you," he said, gracing her with a small smile before turning his attention to the confrontation. "So, that's your sister then?"

"Yup, that's Buffy all right."

"I see." He paused. "Is she really just an ordinary Muggle?"

Dawn's smile turned sly.

"You're the werewolf. You should already know the answer to that."

Remus froze. His eyes widened and after a few moments more of staring at Buffy, he looked up at Dawn. He looked stunned, as though he hadn't actually expected her to confirm whatever it was he was feeling. Dawn nearly giggled.

"What is she?" he suddenly blurted out. Then his cheeks turned slightly pink as he realized how rude that had sounded – Dawn really did giggle now. He turned away from her and looked back to Buffy, this time looking thoughtful and curious.

"Ever since she walked into the room, I've felt something... different," he finally said after a pause. "Different than anything I've ever felt before. It's- it's like the moment she entered, my wolf sat up and took notice and now it's restless, except what I can't quite figure out is whether it wants to fight her or submit to her."

Dawn blinked. She'd never heard of Oz having that problem around Buffy. Then again, Buffy was a friend of his and he'd fought along side her more than once, plus the whole 'hellmouth' aspect of the situation probably had something to do with it too. Weird things could always be blamed on the hellmouth; it was convenient that way.

"Uhh, fighting her would be a bad idea, with a capital 'B' even."

"Why, is she strong?" a new voice suddenly asked.

Dawn looked up at the three redheads occupying the beds next to Remus'. She raised an eyebrow at the purple burn marks weaving up and down their arms. They didn't look particularly painful, in fact they actually looked rather pretty, as though some sort of artistic design was being attempted by whatever it was that had given them the wounds.

"Yeah, she's reeaaally strong," she answered the twin, who'd asked (she wasn't actually sure which one it had been, so she just looked at both of them).

"Hmm..." They looked at each other and then at the piece of parchment they seemed to be studying. Then they both looked up at Dawn again. "Has she ever killed a beast?"

Dawn laughed. She simply couldn't help herself. The idea of Buffy killing only one single beast was ludicrous!

She didn't notice Connor turn his attention from Buffy's confrontation with Moody (which had been on the brink of calming down when the auror mentioned erasing their memories and Buffy decided that if the wizard could have a wand then she was fully entitled to draw her sword) to carefully watch her and eavesdrop as much as he could over all the other noise in the room. There were bright red-coloured sparks flying out of Moody's wand.

"What, you mean just one?" Dawn teased the twins. "Wouldn't make her all that strong if she'd only managed to take down one beast."

"That would depend on what kind of beast we were talking about," the older redhead chimed in. Dawn knew she'd been introduced to him, but couldn't quite remember his name – Gregory, Casey, Charles...? Charlie, that was it, Charlie – like with the chocolate factory! She acknowledged his point with a nod.

The twins looked back to their mysterious paper. "Doesn't say what kind, just says 'the Beast'."

"Could be a title or pseudonym," Remus suggested. "Referring to a specific person, or creature, whichever the case may be."

Dawn froze.

"You mean, like 'Evil One'-"

"-probably refers to a person-"

"-or creature-"

"-or thing."

Suddenly, the world around Dawn lost focus, as though she were looking at it through a narrow, foggy camera lens. She could barely hear the twins wondering whether Buffy was a tree over the whooshing in her ears.

A gentle touch on her arm brought the room back into focus, although it didn't quite chase away the numbness. She looked down into worried brown eyes.

"Dawn, are you alright?" Remus asked.

She blinked, not really sure how she should answer that. Wasn't sure what the answer was anyway. She sensed a second pair of eyes on her and looked up. From across the room, Connor was staring right at her, looking both worried and curious, no longer slouched against the doorframe, but still looking mostly relaxed to the casual observer. He took a step towards her and raised an eyebrow in silent question. Dawn tried for something resembling a smile and shook her head. No, she didn't need help. Then she looked at where her sister and the aurors were no longer arguing, but instead being chastised by the healer for disturbing the medical ward. To her credit, Madame Pomfrey didn't seem intimidated by either the wand or the sword.

Dawn frowned. She was missing something. Staring right at it and missing it completely.

She looked past her sister and saw Draco. He wasn't looking quite as terrified as he had earlier. That brought a soft smile to Dawn's face – apparently Buffy had finally managed to convince Draco through her actions that she would die defending him... or something close to it in any case. Dawn was glad. She didn't have anything against McGonagall or even Harry and his friends (she had better things to do than get in the middle of trying to analyze schoolyard rivalries), but she wasn't sure that she trusted them with Draco. It was funny how things worked out. He'd been her jailer, but without him she'd never have come to Hogwarts...

If she hadn't been kidnapped, then Buffy, Giles and the others would've never known about the Wizarding World – or at least not so soon. And Spike would've never come to England...

Her eyes scanned the room again, taking in every single person in it. She vaguely noticed Connor was now frowning at her, but she had no time to reassure him about anything. Her body wasn't numb anymore, it was vibrating with energy, suppressed excitement mingled with anticipation as she realized how close she was. The answer was at the tip of her tongue.

No, she suddenly realized in what almost felt like a blast of light speeding through her mind, she wasn't. She _knew_ the answer. It was so obvious!

"Can I see that?" she asked, turning to the twins and holding out her hand.

The twins looked up at her, then at each other, then down at the parchment, then back at each other. They shrugged.

"Okay."

"Sure."

The twin on the right handed her the piece of parchment. Dawn took it with a quick thank you and skimmed the lines written there. It confirmed what she already knew. Had just figured out, whatever.

Actually, as prophecies went, this one was oddly straightforward. To her anyway – and that was what clinched the deal.

"Dawn?"

Dawn looked up and blinked, taken aback at how quiet the room suddenly was. When had that happened?

Connor was now standing next to Buffy and the two of them were sending her concerned looks. Professor McGonagall and the crazy-eyed auror and... oh wow. Dawn's eyes widened as she scanned the room and realized that every single person in the room was staring at her. At the front of the room, Spike had taken a few more steps towards the centre. Dawn took a deep breath.

"I've figured it out, Buffy," she whispered into the stillness. "The prophecy: I've figured it out."

She met her sister's eyes. Buffy's eyes widened slightly, but only for a few seconds. She nodded, her eyes suddenly serious, no longer a sister, but a leader. Dawn took a deep breath and handed the parchment back to the twins. She took her own papers out of her back pocket and unfolded them, using the time those motions took to collect her thoughts and figure out how she was going to explain this.

Looking up from the papers in her hand – which she didn't actually need to have in front of her as she pretty much had the words memorized by now – she scanned the room again. Everyone was still watching her. Hermione, Ron and Harry looked wary. She smiled apologetically at them and their eyes widened.

"Sorry, Hermione," she began. "You left your research notes laid out on the back table after you guys were called away to help in the medical ward after that attack on, um, Diagon Alley, I think it was..." She looked beside her at Remus, who nodded in confirmation. "Right, Diagon Alley. Anyway, Illyria found them and I asked Draco to make me some copies-"

"What?" Ron suddenly screeched. Beside him, Dawn saw Harry and Hermione wince. "You mean to say Malfoy's seen them? He could've passed them on to his father or to-"

"Ron, I don't think-" Harry began, placing a hand on Ron's shoulder. Ron shrugged it off.

"No, Harry, you're not thinking!" Ron hissed. Harry's eyes narrowed. "So he's been 'ere a week and not tried to kill any of us? Great, brilliant, in fact. And not killing a couple of kids made You-Know-Who kill his mum is the reason 'e's 'ere in the first place, which makes me a bit more willing to share the castle with 'im. But, 'arry, you're forgetting that 'e spent a year trying to _murder_ Professor Dumbledore in order to save 'is parents. And he's still got one parent left!"

The room was silent for a few moments following Ron's outburst. Draco looked shell-shocked, wide-eyed and pale-faced, standing frozen except for the slight trembling in his hands. Dawn breathed a sigh of relief when Spike went to the blond and placed a supportive hand on his shoulder as he leaned over and whispered something into his ear. Dawn's heart went out to her newfound friend and she was glad she was still feeling a bit numb or else she might not have been able to stifle the urge to hurt Ron for his callous words, because... Well, because he sort of had a point.

Not that she believed Draco would betray them. No, as anxious as he was about the future - his future – she didn't think he'd ever be able to stomach going back to the monster, who'd killed his mother in front of his eyes. Not for anyone. But the point was still valid.

"N-Narcissa Malfoy's dead?" someone whispered. Dawn glanced over to where a large, red-headed woman stood, looking horrified.

"Yes, she is," Dawn answered, knowing Draco couldn't right now.

And before anyone could add anything to that, Buffy stepped in front of Draco. She gripped his arm (on the side Spike wasn't holding) and looked up into his eyes. Dawn couldn't hear her exact words, but she saw Draco visibly relax and then nod. Seemingly satisfied, Buffy then stepped back and turned once again to Dawn.

"Okay, so back to the info session," Buffy said with a bright smile. "So, basically you're saying that Hermy here had a prophecy squirreled away in her research notes and she left them laying around for you to find. Which you did, obviously." Dawn nodded. "And being a prophecy, the words were appropriately vague and confusing and made absolutely no sense, right?"

Dawn nodded and noticed Hermione also nodding out of the corner of her eyes. Buffy apparently did too, because she quirked a smile at the girl. Which turned slightly smug when she looked back at her sister.

"But Dawnie says she's figured it out anyway."

Dawn winced.

"Er, well, I haven't figured out the whole thing, 'cause, hello long-winded and confusing, thy name is prophecy. But I have figured out the important part. Or at least one of the important parts anyway."

Buffy nodded. "Yup, end of the world tends to trump everything else in importance. But we already got one down."

There were some general gasps and exclamations of disbelief, but Dawn ignored them, because she was not about to try and convince anyone that, yes, the world was indeed going to end at some point in time soon-ish unless they stopped it. She'd never get to her point if she started; it was all about prioritizing.

She took a deep breath and turned to Hermione, meeting the girl's skeptical gaze.

"Okay, so, Hermione, you've been studying the prophecies you've gotten from Phythia, right?"

"Yes, of course I have. Not that they've made much sense."

"Yeah, trying to find sense in a prophecy is like trying to make sense of a roomful of sugar-high preschoolers. By the time you've managed to calm them down enough to hear what they're actually saying, they've forgotten what they were saying in the first place and gone on to something else entirely."

Hermione snickered, her eyes darting to look briefly at Ron and Harry. Neither one of the boys caught the look, but Dawn couldn't help the giggle that escaped her. And just like that, she realized she'd found a kindred spirit. Buffy would listen to her theories, because she needed info in order to defeat the Big Bad, but, like Giles, Hermione would listen because she _wanted_ to know. Because underneath the reality of needing to know, she was genuinely curious.

The last of the numbness that had infused Dawn's limbs evaporated, leaving her with an electric sensation bubbling just underneath her skin. She took a deep breath in an attempt to put the thousand words that wanted to escape her into some sort of semblance of order.

"But this one's a bit different anyway, right? Like, as soon as you think you've got one part sort of figured out, you realize it doesn't actually make sense with the rest of what's there?"

Hermione nodded thoughtfully. "Well, I don't have a lot of experience with prophecies, but, yes, it felt like there was something missing."

"Exactly! Wanna know why?"

The witch let her expression speak for itself. Dawn grinned.

"'Cause you're missing the first part." Hermione's eyes widened. "You guys got two parts of the prophecy, but there's a third part – or actually, the first part – that was written down a long time ago and that's the one you're missing!"

"The Sandstone Prophecy," Hermione breathed. "How did you-"

"Came across it in our archives. Point is that together they're like a treasure map: the first part just has a giant 'X' with nothing around it and then the next two parts are the map with roads and rivers and kind of directions and stuff, but with no context, nothing telling you what you're looking for or when or why you should be looking for it in the first place."

"How do you know the three parts are connected?" Harry asked.

Dawn thrust her pages at him, with her part of the prophecy on top. Harry frowned, but looked down to read it. Ron and Hermione leaned in to read over his shoulder. Hermione was the first to finish, her eyes widening when she got to the end and then darted to look back up at Dawn.

Dawn turned back to Buffy, knowing this was the part that her sister really needed to hear. They all needed to hear.

"So, like I said, I haven't actually figured out the whole thing, but figuring out my part connected with Hermione's part was the easy bit. My prophecy ends with the line: 'The Snake is not the king of beasts, but the Lion cannot win'. Hermione's first prophecy begins with: 'The Snake is not the king of beasts, but the Lion cannot win'. So, clearly someone wanted us to know beyond a shadow of a doubt that they were part of the same thing."

She took a deep breath. Now came the hard part.

"But, I think it's more than that, because there are other ways to figure out the first two are connected. I think that line is repeated, 'cause it's the key to the whole thing, the most important part. The part you need to figure out before you can do anything else."

She paused for emphasis. The room was silent, everyone's eyes glued to her.

"'The Snake is not the king of beasts, but the Lion cannot win'. It sounds horribly ominous until you say it again and realize that it's not really, but doesn't make much sense either. 'Cause if neither the Snake nor the Lion can win, then it's a stalemate, but the prophecy itself begins by talking about the end of the world, so clearly a stalemate isn't good enough." Deep breath. "It makes no sense, because it's missing a word. One, single word makes the whole thing make sense."

Dawn forced herself to slow down, to not blurt out everything at once. Willow-speak was not going to help her here.

"The Snake is not the king of beats, but the Lion cannot win..._alone_." She paused. "Just like how the first part of the prophecy didn't make any sense on its own and the second two parts didn't make much sense on their own either. If Draco hadn't brought me to Hogwarts, or told Azazella to take us to Hogwarts, the three parts of the prophecy would've never come together!"

"Merlin!" Dawn glanced at Hermione. The girl's eyes were wide, but Dawn could tell she understood what Dawn was saying and its implications.

"Dawn, d-do you have any proof of this? Other than the prophecy you found while in London, I mean?" Remus asked quietly.

Dawn turned to him with a grateful grin. She was hoping someone would ask that question.

"You mean other than Buffy meeting your divinations professor in a dream and being told she needed to come to Hogwarts?"

"Oh yes, I'd forgotten about that," she heard Professor McGonagall mutter.

Judging by the look on his face, so had Remus – and quite a few others as well, she noticed as she glanced away, before turning to the twins and Charlie (the more she thought about it, the more she was certain that was his name).

"And then there's the reason all of you are here – or at least part of the reason anyway, I think" she continued. "And that would be your cue, guys." She winked at the twins and their brother. "Wanna fill everyone else in?"

The twins exchanged looks with their brother and then took over the explanation, telling a roomful of people what had happened in their kitchen. They were interrupted part-way through by their mother who was supremely unimpressed by their use of her kitchen and then later by auror Moody, who growled at them for not being vigilant and prepared enough. However, despite the interruptions, they eventually managed to finish their story. Dawn watched Buffy and Spike's eyes widen as they read aloud the message their visitor had left them with:

"Now the time to hide is done:

the Snake prepares to rise.

The Lion, you see, he cannot win,

The Snake is much too strong.

The Killer of the Beast go seek,

those who fought the Evil One.

The Snake looks to swallow

more than he can hold,

but the Circle that feeds him

is worse by many fold.

Champions must meet;

and together fight,

or apart they shall die.

Three parts remain the Snake Charmer seeks.

One shown, one hides where all can see

and the third is close at hand.

Tell, the Boy to listen to the Tree

and heed the Dragon's words.

For if at first you don't succeed,

the world will be no more."

They finished and were met with silence. Dawn looked at the faces around her and was relieved to see that even the most sceptical seemed to be coming around to the truth.

"Wow, that crazy demon prophet really gets around," Buffy commented.

Dawn blinked at that, opening her mouth to speak, but closing it when she met Buffy's eyes. Her sister shook her head so slightly that if Dawn hadn't been looking right at her, she might've missed it. Apparently, Buffy had something to add to all of this, but didn't want to say so in front of the wizards.

"Yes, she does," said Harry, looking a bit stunned. He frowned. "I wonder why doesn't just tell one person everything at once."

Dawn grinned, mentally giving the Boy-Who-Lived a whole plateful of brownie points.

"Because, spreading the information around is kinda the point," she said. "It means no one person can work on this alone, because they won't get anywhere."

He looked a bit annoyed at that, but Dawn didn't care. She turned back to her roomful of rapt audience.

"So, clearly something has changed and the Snake – or Voldemort, I suppose – has gotten stronger, probably thanks to this Circle-"

"That'd be the Circle of the Black Thorne, I imagine," Spike called out helpfully.

Dawn frowned, glancing at the vampire.

"I thought you guys killed off the members of the Circle of the Black Thorne?"

Spike shrugged. "We did, but that was the L.A. branch and, as one rather 'elpful demon in New York pointed out, there's pro'lly more than one branch out there."

"Oh. Well, that makes this whole thing that much easier to solve. These cryptic instructions are actually ridiculously straightforward and easy to understand, but only if you have insider info. See, 'the Beast' was what a group called the Knights of Byzantium called a hell goddess named Glorificus and Giles was the one, who killed her after she'd been defeated by everyone else – which, by the way, includes a witch named Willow. And we all fought the Evil One."

She looked briefly at the now-speechless twins and their older brother (whose intense stare she was rather glad to be able to look away from or else she was afraid she might ruin everything by blushing, because, wow, did he ever have gorgeous brown eyes) and met Buffy's eyes. She silently asked Buffy for permission to do what she wanted to do now. Buffy nodded and smiled. Dawn smiled back gratefully and then turned to face Professor McGonagall and the auror, Moody. They seemed to be the leaders of this group.

"Since we're apparently supposed to be working together, I think some proper, official introductions are in order," she began. They looked at her in bewilderment and some suspicion. Dawn smiled and stepped forward.

"Hello everyone, my name is Dawn Summers and I'm a member of the Watcher's Council." She gestured at Buffy. "And this is my sister, Buffy Summers, the Vampire Slayer."

There were several moments of stunned silence, broken up by a heartfelt 'Bloody Hell' from the redheaded twins. She thought that summed it up fairly well.

* * *

I solemnly swear I WILL NOT take this long to get the next chapter out. In the meantime, please review!


	23. Chapter 22

Um... yeah, so it's been a while since the last update... but don't worry guys, this story hasn't been forgotten. And the next chapter will definitely not take as long (although I feel like I say this every time I update...). Thanks to everyone, who took the time to review the last chapter! Also, many thanks to **Biblios** for betaing this chapter.

Disclaimer: All I own is the prophecy and a few side characters.

* * *

**The Prophecy of the Four**

**Chapter 22 –** The Final Piece

"Okay, so how are we going to do this?" Buffy asked, hands on her hips as she looked dubiously at the small, European car, which was likely being made to look even smaller by standing in the forest's shade. "There's seven of us and only five seats."

"And a trunk and a roof-rack," Connor added, shrugging at the glares he received for the comment.

"Well, seeing as how this is my car and the rest of you lot can't drive..." Spike said pointedly.

"I can drive," said Connor back with a raised eyebrow.

"Uh, me too, hello?" Dawn added, crossing her arms over her chest and glaring at the vampire. Unfortunately, her glare was interrupted by a wide yawn – it was after two in the morning, after all.

"Yeah, well, it's still my car-" Spike growled out

"Your stolen car, you mean," Connor interjected.

"Hang on, wait, you stole this car?" Buffy exclaimed, looking alarmed.

"Of course he did, how else do you think he got it?" Dawn rolled her eyes at her sister.

"Well, uh, I suppose, but should we be worried about the police?"

"Nah, we swapped the license plates with a mini that was parked on the other side of town," said Connor. "It'll keep them guessing for a while."

"Draco, don't suppose you could change the colour?" Dawn asked and the rest of the banter ground to the halt as everyone looked to Dawn and then Draco in surprise.

Draco, for his part, looked a bit surprised at being addressed. But he shook his surprise off quickly and took his wand out with a confident air that clearly said 'of course I can, you plebeians'. With a casual flick of his wand and a few softly-spoken words, the car began to slowly transform. When it was done, Draco tucked his wand into the sleeve of his robe and crossed his arms over his chest, looking smug.

There were a few moments of silence. Dawn carefully nudged the ball of light Professor McGonagall had conjured to accompany them to the Hogwarts gates towards the car, so they could see it better.

"Okay, I'm not too proud to admit I'm impressed," said Connor.

"Bloody 'ell, looks like a whole new car!" said Spike with delight.

"Why is it green?" asked Buffy with a frown as she looked over the formerly dark blue car, which now sported a shiny coat of bright, forest green with a silver hood and silver accents.

"Slytherin colours," Dawn answered with an amused smile.

"Oh, okay, but why not go with a classic sportscar red or something?"

"I am not riding in a Gryffindor car!"

Dawn giggled at Draco's horrified look, while Buffy just looked confused.

"Don't worry, we'll explain on the way," Dawn reassured her sister.

"Speaking of which, check it out, he made the back bigger too!" Connor called, his voice sounding a bit muffled because he was leaning into the interior of the car.

"Really?" Buffy asked and ran over to look. "Oooh, room for four in the back and _leather_ seats. Nice work, Drackie!"

There was a moment of silence, during which Draco's face took on an expression of stunned horror, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. Connor sniggered and Dawn had to slap a hand over her mouth in order to stop herself from bursting into laughter.

"Wh-what did you just call me?" Draco finally managed to get out.

Buffy shot him a winning smile.

"And you thought Dragon-boy was bad," Dawn teased.

"Dragon-boy?" Buffy asked with a frown.

"Draco, which is short for Draconis, by the way, is Latin for 'dragon'."

"Oh. That's actually kinda cool." Then Buffy giggled. "He's like Puff the Magic Dragon."

"I-I most certainly am not!" Draco stuttered. "And what sort of mentally deficient fool gives a dragon a name that sounds like it belongs to a house elf?"

"House elf? What's a house elf?"

"It's this strange-looking creature that looks like something between a gremlin and a hobbit that likes to cook and clean," Dawn answered her sister.

Buffy's eyes lit up.

"A magical creature that likes to cook and clean so I don't have to? Haven't even met one yet and it's already my favourite creature ever! Where do I find one?"

"Hogwarts has, like, an army of them, so maybe you can ask McGonagall for one," Dawn suggested. "Just don't do it when Hermione's around; she hates how the house elves are kept, calls it slave labour."

Buffy frowned.

"Oh. I guess if they're forced to do it then that'd be bad... Maybe if I ask them nicely, one of them will come back with me willingly."

Draco sighed. "House elves live partially off the magic created by the house they live in," he said with an annoyed look (only Dawn's steady hand and a very forceful change of subject had kept him from getting into a very heated argument with Hermione over the treatment of house elves). "It's why pureblood families and places like Hogwarts can sustain so many of them and mudblood families rarely have any at all."

"Oh." A pause. "What's a mudblood?"

"A derogatory term for someone with magical abilities and non-magical parents," said Connor. "It drives Harry and his friends up the wall when he uses the word."

"So, like, Willow would be a mudblood then?"

"Ummm... probably?"

"Hmm... well, maybe we shouldn't tell her that. The last time she got truly pissed-off she nearly destroyed the world. Also, getting off the flaying-then-burning-alive bandwagon took a lot of work and I really don't want to have to go through that again."

While Draco gaped at Buffy's words – looking around at the others to try and figure out whether or not she was joking – Buffy winked conspiratorially at Dawn. Dawn giggled, which brought Draco's head whipping around to glare at her. She tried to look as innocent as possible. And failed. Miserably.

"Lady Dawn," Azazella's voice rumbled through the silence. Dawn turned to her self-appointed knight. "There is something that requires my attention. I shall meet you in London; if you have need of me before I arrive myself, call for me."

Dawn nodded.

"Okay, got it. Uh, good luck with your, um, stuff."

Azazella nodded and then disappeared with the usual flash of black flames. Buffy started a bit, never having seen the Old One's fire transportation trick.

"Cool," she said.

"You know, I wonder if she actually needs to do the flamey thing or if it's just for dramatic effect," said Connor after a few moments.

"The fire adds strength to her magic," Illyria answered, her voice rumbling with demon for all that she looked like Fred. Then she smirked. "However, I do not think she requires that much strength for short teleportations."

Spike snorted, not at all surprised by that particular revelation.

"An' on tha' note, let's get this freak show on 'he road," he said as he headed to the driver's seat.

"Shotgun!" Dawn called immediately and ran to the passenger side.

"Hey!" Buffy protested with a pout. "That's cheating."

"So is not."

"Is too."

"You know," Connor said to Draco, "riding in the trunk suddenly doesn't sound like such a bad suggestion."

Draco chuckled, hoping it didn't sound as faint as he felt.

* * *

At exactly ten o'clock in the evening, Mr. Rupert Giles set the phone brought into the infirmary on speakerphone and dialed. The Prime Minister held his breath. There was something inherently exciting about all this subterfuge, something that harked back to boyhood dreams of being James Bond or the amazing Biggles.

Rupert was convinced their enemies had eyes and ears within the government, but that trying to rout them out would be a waste of time they likely didn't have. According to a young man with an eyepatch, everything at the hospital had gone smoothly and Lisa Callaghan had received the cellphone they had for her while she was delivering flowers to Faith (who'd apparently been absolutely floored at receiving such a huge bouquet along with a large box of expensive chocolates and an even bigger container of homemade biscuits).

The phone rang once, twice. On the third ring, someone picked up.

"Hello?" Anthony sighed with relief at hearing his friend's voice. "Anthony, you there?"

"Hello Norman, I'm here."

"Bloody hell, mate! Do you have any idea what I've been through today? First the Prime Minister, who, as you know, is a bit of an important person in this country, goes missing without a trace and just when we're trying to figure out how to contact those bleeding wizards to see if they know anything they're not sharing, my wife shows up looking pale and distressed and tells me _she_ knows where you are, sort of. Oh, and you're alive thanks to some girl, who, by the way, happened to lose her fucking arm defending you against whatever it was that attacked you – with weapons capable of hacking said arm off. And then she gives me this phone and your message about another undercover meeting, because apparently we've all forgotten that we're public figures and there's only so much undercover shit you can do when anyone, who follows current events, will recognize you wherever you go!"

Anthony couldn't help himself. After everything that had happened to him over the past day and a half, hearing his friend ranting about it made him laugh harder than he had in years. He could very well imagine the scowl that was now on the finance minister's face and that only made him laugh harder. It was such a relief to know that, despite the turmoil, some things never changed.

He could hear some mumbling coming from the other phone and a few other voices, which confirmed that Norman had gotten the others together as well.

Eventually, he managed to get himself back under control, wincing as his various scrapes and bruises reminded him why this wasn't exactly a laughing matter.

"You done there, mate?" Norman asked dryly.

"Um, yes, sorry, it's just that after everything that's happened, hearing you say it like that just made it all sound utterly ridiculous and you haven't even gotten to the part about the demons yet. Which reminds me, I saw the evening news: Prime Minister collapses, resting in hospital?"

"What, you'd rather we told the truth?" Norman snapped. "Oh, but wait, we didn't actually know the truth! We _still_ don't know the entire truth!"

There followed several moments of silence.

"Demons?" a voice, which could've been the leader of the opposition, finally squeaked.

"I don't suppose that's whatever pain medication you're on at the moment speaking?" General Tanya Baker asked. She sounded resigned.

"No, sorry. Whoever it is that wants me dead, sent a small pack of demons after me last night. They set up a trap, attacking in an area, where they'd blocked any sort of transportation magic, so Kingsley, my magical secretary, couldn't get us out."

"Aah, well that explains where he's been all day," said Norman.

"Indeed," said another voice and Anthony recognized the elderly voice of the minister of the home office. "Then we all owe a debt of gratitude to this Faith, who rescued you from the clutches of these demons. Now, who exactly is this young demon-slayer?"

Anthony looked up and met Mister Giles' eyes. The man looked amused.

"In order to better explain that part, I'd like to introduce you all to Mister Rupert Giles of the Watcher's Council," he said. "Faith is one of his operatives."

"The Watcher's Council?" General Baker interjected. "I remember hearing that name... about two years ago a building exploded in London. Scotland Yard determined the cause was a skillfully-constructed bomb. The incident was treated as a potential act of terrorism, but we never found anything to link it to any terrorist or even major crime organization."

There was a pause.

"At least I don't think there was... The investigation was taken over by General Tannington. Come to think of it, I never did hear of any final report on the incident, which is rather odd."

Anthony looked at Giles and raised an eyebrow in question. Giles shrugged as if to say he had no idea what it meant.

"Yes, that was the old council," Giles agreed out loud. "We've rebuilt since then. The explosion was meant to severely cripple us and, to an extent, it succeeded. Our enemy, however, didn't count on the determination of our biggest weapon – and that she never really listened to the Council in the first place."

"Enemy?" The general's question was sharp, the soldier in her clearly not liking the idea of her not being aware of an enemy of any sort hiding somewhere.

"Don't worry, the situation has been, uh, dealt with and this enemy is no longer a threat." Giles took a deep breath. "And as much as I love to reminisce upon the deaths of most of my colleagues, our current situation has very little to do with that particular incident. In fact, in order to understand any part of that incident you must first know who we are and what it is that we do."

"And not dismiss either of us as complete lunatics," Anthony added. A smile quirked at the corners of Mister Giles' lips as he nodded to the prime minister with silent amusement.

"Yes, that would be appreciated," he agreed.

There was a pause and then Norman's voice came through once again, a false cheer in his voice.

"Alright, we promise to be good and hear you out. I mean, we survived finding out about a secret war between wizards, how much worse could this possibly be?"

Anthony grinned. "Norman, you have no idea how much you've just jinxed yourself."

And then the prime minister turned the conversation over to Rupert Giles. When the head of the Watcher's Council was done with his explanations and Anthony's colleagues were finally mostly convinced neither one of them was a secret drug addict, they began to plan. It took them hours, but by two in the morning, they had an agreement and the beginnings of a battle plan.

For the first time, since this whole mess started, Anthony fell asleep feeling like everything would work out in the end. Somehow.

* * *

Remus looked out the window and sighed. Then he shook his head, chuckling at himself as he continued down the corridor. He was finally being let out of the infirmary, therefore should be feeling much happier than he was. Though, he had to admit, the past week or so (had it really been only six days since the raid on Diagon Alley?) had been one of the most interesting ones he'd had in a while. Well, not counting ones that ended in tragedy of some sort.

Oh, how he wished Sirius was still alive and had been able to experience the last several days with him. Now, granted, things would not have played out nearly as calmly as they had if Sirius had been around, but Remus knew his friend well and it wouldn't have taken very long for him to lose his anger in favour of fascination. I mean, honestly, what self-respecting marauder wouldn't be attracted by demons, vampires, impossibly-existing vampires' children, vampire slayers and several attractive women (even if one was old enough to be their daughter and the other two turned into powerful demons). Oh, and the demonfire transportation.

Remus grinned. He enjoyed the demonfire transportation.

After all that, returning to Grimmauld Place felt depressing.

He really hoped Dawn and Buffy could convince the Watcher's Council to add their forces to the Order of the Phoenix. And not only because he craved access to their library. Somehow he just knew that if they added their forces to the Order's, then it would be enough to tip the scales. He hoped. To be honest, Remus was forcing himself not to be too optimistic. After all, despite Dawn and Buffy's knowledge of magic and the supernatural world, neither one of them were actually magical themselves. Most texts classified the Slayer as, at best, a magical creature and, more often, a slightly-stronger muggle trained to fight vampires.

Personally, he wasn't quite sure which version to believe. There was certainly more to Buffy Summers than just being a muggle – he'd practically had to restrain the wolf inside of him from forcing itself to the surface when she'd first entered the room – but she'd still felt more or less human. It was an odd combination and made the scholar in Remus want to learn more. Admittedly, it was one of the main reasons he wanted access to the Watcher's Council's library.

Footsteps coming down the corridor had his head shooting upwards, not realizing he'd been unintentionally examining the stone floor of Hogwarts as he mused until just now. His heart leaped and he smiled as Tonks rounded the corner.

"Tonks!" he called out.

Tonks froze and blinked as she looked at him. Then a wide smile crossed her face.

"Wotcher, Remus!" she called back, bouncing a bit as she walked towards him. "Poppy releasing you from her clutches, is she?"

Remus chuckled. "Yes, she is." Then he frowned as she came closer. The smile on her face seemed a bit strained. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah," she sighed. "Just a bit tired is all. Long week and last night's meeting hasn't exactly put ol' Mad-Eye in a good mood."

"No, I imagine not. For a few moments there I thought he might get into a fight with Dawn's sister – which, now that we all know she's the Slayer, might actually have been interesting to watch."

Tonks laughed, genuinely this time.

"Actually, I was thinking more about Potter's little quest. I don't think the Slayer would've done much harm; she's still a muggle, after all and Mad-Eye's a trained auror."

"Hm, maybe, but I'm not so sure Buffy would've been that easy to take down. You're right, though, finding out Dumbledore entrusted what could possibly be the key to taking down You-Know-Who to Harry alone while leaving the Order in the dark about it definitely upset him. Especially as it's dealing with something as dangerous as horcruxes."

Tonks nodded. Remus in stepped closer to her.

"So what time do you get off-duty?" he asked. "I know you've been busy with everything and didn't have time to visit me while I was in the hospital wing, but now I'm leaving and I'll be free and alone in the evenings again." He took another step closer. "I missed you."

He heard her breath catch and grinned. Tonks looked away for a moment. There was a slightly nervous smile on her face.

"I don't know if I'll be able to tonight," she said, before looking back with an apologetic smile. "Maybe in a couple days?"

"Oh, well, alright," he answered, feeling a bit disappointed and chiding himself for it. She was an auror and, of course, she was tired and very busy – he'd gotten so much more rest than she had during the past couple of days. That gave him an idea. "I know, why don't I make you dinner? Not tonight, but maybe tomorrow night or the day after?"

Tonks smiled widely. "Sure, day after tomorrow. Dinner sounds nice. I'll be looking forward to it."

Remus smiled, feeling incredibly pleased with himself.

"Auror Tonks!"

Both of them jumped at the unexpected bellow. Tonks cursed under her breath.

"Yes, Auror Moody?" she said brightly as she turned around to face her superior – her glowering superior.

"We have orders to report back to the Ministry," he finally growled. "With the hostiles gone, there's no official reason for us to remain. The Minister is understandably upset that we didn't manage to detain them and now I have to go explain in person why we didn't."

Tonks nodded.

"I'll follow with the-"

"You're coming with me."

Tonks froze and Remus winced in sympathy. He certainly didn't envy her that dubious honour.

"Yes, sir."

"Have you seen Racheal Windemere?"

"She was patrolling the perimeter of the grounds. I saw her by the lake last night."

"Really?" Moody frowned. "I don't remember seeing her since yesterday morning... 'Suppose I haven't been out that way either. Did you send her there?"

Remus could feel the tension pouring off his girlfriend as she nodded. Moody nodded.

"Good idea, blindly trusting the ward alarms to hold could have cost us our lives had the Malfoy boy's presence been a prelude to an attack. It's important to be vigilant and cover all possibilities."

Tonks relaxed and let out the breath she'd been holding. Remus smiled, pleased for her; he knew how much she valued Alastor Moody's approval.

"Thank you. Do you want me to go let her know we're leaving?"

"Yes, that would be helpful. I want to make one last sweep of the dungeons and the library, make sure our visitors didn't leave anything behind. I don't care what Minerva says, I still don't completely trust them."

"Gotcha. Meet you at the Ministry or at the Gates?"

"Hogwarts gates in forty minutes."

Tonks nodded.

"Remus," Moody acknowledged him for the first time with a short nod. Remus nodded back with a smile.

"Alastor. Good luck with Fudge."

Alastor snorted before turning on his heel and stalking off towards the dungeons. Tonks finally relaxed with a sigh. She turned back to Remus and smiled.

"Well, I guess I'd better get going," she said.

She paused, before stepping up to him with a little bounce and kissed him lightly on the lips. Remus only barely restrained himself from grabbing her and deepening the kiss, propriety being the only thing keeping him from doing just that. She quickly stepped back again, eyes twinkling playfully.

"So, see you in two days?" she asked.

Remus grinned in response.

"Oh absolutely."

As Tonks turned to leave, Remus suddenly realizing something.

"Did you change your perfume?" he asked, frowning at the odd scent he was smelling.

Tonks turned to face him.

"Do you like it?" she asked with a sly, flirtatious grin.

"It's nice," he answered, hoping he managed just enough enthusiasm to mask his dislike.

Remus knew better than to tell a woman he disliked how she smelled. He would find out what it was she used to wear and, as soon as he was able, buy her a bottle. Tonks laughed.

"See yah, Remus!" she called as she hurried off down the hall.

"Good luck!"

Remus was still grinning when he entered Grimmauld Place. Not even the drab, depressing house could ruin the lightness in his heart now.

* * *

Draco's first impression of a Muggle residence would've likely been much more derisive had there not been a red-haired woman surrounded by candles _levitating_ in the living room.

The front hall of the house had felt, well, empty in a way he couldn't quite explain, as though something was missing that should've been essential. The incredibly long trip (Honestly, how _did_ Muggles do it? Traveling cross-country on a broom would've been more comfortable than being squashed in the back seat of the car!) to London ended when Spike finally parked the car beside a large house with a high, overgrown stone wall surrounding what appeared to be a considerable chunk of property. This made Draco at least a bit less nervous about his new 'home'. If things got intolerable, he could at least escape the Muggles by going outside. He'd read enough history to know that Muggles sometimes tried to do horrible things to people with magic, like burn them alive – not that they'd succeed as Draco was a powerful enough wizard to avoid such a fate, but it was the principle of the matter.

Although, he kept reminding himself, Dawn seemed completely comfortable around magic for the most part, even if a bit disturbed by just how much of it he used.

Their arrival at eight in the morning had found the house quietly asleep. Spike's mad dash into the house to avoid erupting into flames had been amusing to watch. After that, half-asleep people had started trickling down from the top floor to meet them. There was a lot of hugging going on around Dawn and Draco had felt a bit out-of-place and awkward. So he decided to poke around while no one was paying attention to him.

The door to this room had been open a crack and it took very little to push it open a crack or two more. As soon as he did, he could feel it. Magic. The 'something' that had been missing in the front hall was saturating this room with bubbling, vibrating energy that washed over him like a gentle surf at the beach. It was different than anything he'd ever felt before, soothing his nerves and acting like a balm on aches he didn't even realize he was feeling.

He hadn't intended to step into the room, but his feet carried him forward without conscious thought. Vaguely, the analytical part of his mind realized the room he was in had to have some rather impressive wards surrounding it, if it had managed to conceal this much power. For there was no mistaking it, whoever this woman was, she was powerful, possibly even might have been Dumbledore's equal in terms of power. He also realized he should have been terrified at being in the presence of this much raw magical power, but he couldn't find it in him to push away from the peace he was feeling.

"Hello," a voice interrupted his thoughts. Draco startled and opened his eyes (when had he closed them?). Vibrantly green eyes looked back at him with curiosity.

"Hello," he said back, instantly feeling a bit foolish. He was a Malfoy, not some blubbering Hufflepuff and that was the best he could come up with? At least he was fairly certain he was still a Malfoy... assuming, of course, that his father thought he'd been abducted instead of running away.

Draco took a deep breath, stilling those thoughts and pushing back those last images he had of his father standing over him with an outstretched wand a furious expression on his face. His father, accusing him of being weak, of being the reason his mother- No!

He pushed those thoughts aside, refusing to allow them to surface. He would not break down in front of a bunch of muggles! He would not disgrace the name...

The breath caught in his throat as a sob he couldn't suppress erupted from his throat. Around him, the gentle, flowing magic enveloped him like a blanket of the softest lamb fleece, so light it almost wasn't there, so gentle it hurt where it rubbed against his self-control. He could feel sympathy in the magic, as though it knew his grief.

"You've lost someone close to you," a voice said and it was with a sudden breath of clarity that Draco realized no one had actually spoken out load. His head shot up to stare incredulously at the red-head just as the words "I'm sorry" were spoken without the young woman moving her lips.

She was no longer levitating. Instead she was standing amidst the candles with a sad, sympathetic smile. Grief that echoed his own suddenly flitted within her eyes and Draco felt it colour the magic around him.

"I know what it's like to loose someone precious," she spoke into his mind. An image of a laughing girl with long, blond hair and large, happy eyes appeared before his eyes for split second. Even having never met the girl, he suddenly knew what she'd meant to the woman before him.

Draco felt something on his cheek and brought his hand up to brush it away. The wetness surprised him. It did explain why everything seemed a bit blurry. Another sob ripped its way out of his throat. Oh Merlin, no, he was a Malfoy, he wasn't weak, he couldn't-

A hand gently landed on his shoulder and he looked into gentle green eyes – somewhat surprised that he was looking down at her instead of up.

"Who did you lose?" she asked out loud, the sudden noise in the otherwise silent room startling Draco.

"I..." The worlds got caught in his mouth as Draco swallowed against another sob, closing his eyes in an attempt to compose himself, to still the shaking that rattled his body, to stop himself from falling into the chasm of darkness he could feel threatening to overwhelm him.

"Draco?" a new, familiar voice asked from behind him.

He turned to look at Dawn, who was standing in the doorway looking worried. And suddenly, that chasm didn't seem quite so deep anymore. He turned back to the redheaded woman and her gentle, green eyes.

"My-my mother," he whispered as images he'd been trying to suppress began to show themselves once again. His mother's happiness when he'd been accepted into Hogwarts, her warm presence sitting next to him as they watched quidditch, criticizing the teams' strategies under her breath so that only Draco could hear her, her patience as she helped him practice his transfigurations over Christmas break. Her last words, her lifeless body as it fell to the ground like a marionette whose strings had been cut...

"Oh god!" Draco gasped, tears now falling freely down his face. "She-she's... he killed her... I couldn't- I was-"

A pair of arms embraced him and guided him to the ground as his knees gave out from under him. And then a second pair embraced him from behind, together shielding him from the outside world as he finally gave in and let the grief overwhelm him.

Dawn knew she was crying too. For Draco as well as for herself, because his grief was exposing the weak walls surrounding her own. So many people to grieve for: her own mother, Tara, Cassie, Anya and even Spike, because his having returned unharmed didn't completely erase the grief for his loss that existed within her soul. It was with quite a bit of guilt that Dawn realized this was probably the first time Draco had actually allowed himself to grieve for his mother. Perhaps the first time he'd felt safe enough to do so.

She met Willow's eyes over Draco's hunched form. Willow's eyes were rimmed with red, the witch having just as many, if not more, people to grieve for than Dawn did. She smiled slightly at her, but the smile was weak and watery. Willow smiled back, a silent greeting in her eyes.

Eventually, even the tremors racking Draco's body stopped as the boy had managed to cry himself to sleep. With a silent nod to Willow, Dawn carefully untangled herself from their three person hug and slipped out of the room and into the hallway.

Out in the hallway, Spike was waiting for her. He stepped away from the wall he'd been slouched against as soon as the door began to open and moved towards her.

"'Ow's 'e doing?" the vampire asked in a low voice.

Dawn sighed.

"He's asleep now," she said, because really, what else was there to say? "So I guess we'll see when he wakes up. Um, could you maybe...?"

Spike nodded. "The whelp already went upstairs to get a room ready for 'im."

Dawn smiled, warmed at how easily her friends – no, family – were accepting everything. Spike slipped silently into the room and Dawn watched as he gently picked Draco out of Willow's arms and stood up. She stepped out of his way as he hurried out of the room towards the stairs. Further down the hall she could see Giles, Buffy and Conner watching silently.

Then the air was knocked out of her as she was suddenly embraced by an enthusiastic, red-headed witch, who was apparently determined to hug the stuffing out of her.

"Oh goddess, Dawn, I'm so glad you're alright!" Willow whispered.

Dawn smiled as she returned the hug.

"Me too, Willow, me too," she said. "Thanks for coming down to look for me."

"Anytime." Willow let go of Dawn and stepped back a step, a stern expression on her face. "Which is not an invitation to get kidnapped again, missy. There will be no more kidnapping, got it?"

"Hey, it's not like I did it on purpose!"

Giles cleared his throat.

"We're mostly glad to have you back and mostly unharmed," he said, looking her up and down as though to verify his own words.

Dawn smiled. "Yeah, for once I'm actually completely fine. The whole thing was sort of weird, though, 'wrong place, wrong time' doesn't usually happen to me."

"Well good, that's very good," said Willow. Then she frowned and looked towards the staircase. "So, who's your new wizard friend?"

"Draco Malfoy. He was my prison guards – well, one of them anyway. The one who got bored enough to talk to me on a regular basis even if he thought it was beneath him, 'cause I was all no-magical as far as he knew. His father's a death eater." Dawn swallowed and continued more softly, as though saying the words more quietly would lessen their impact. "Draco's got the mark too."

"Mark, what mark?" Xander asked as he came down the stairs followed by Spike.

"How's he doing?" Dawn asked instead.

Xander shrugged. "Completely out for the count. I've got him in Andrew's room since the geek's not going to be needing it anytime soon. Now about this mark?"

"The Dark Mark; he's been branded as a death eater," Dawn finally answered.

"Okay, this part I missed," Buffy commented with wide eyes. "You didn't say anything about his having actually joined the death minions."

"Voldemort was threatening to kill his parents; it's not as though he really had much of a choice," said Dawn, readily defending her friend.

A stunned silence followed. Willow looked horrified. The shrill sound of the tea kettle coming from the kitchen interrupted. Giles sighed.

"By the sounds of it, the boy's been through a lot in a very short period of time," he said. "It's possible he was still in some form of shock all this time, his mind choosing to deal with the present instead of what had happened in the recent past. A defense mechanism, if you will."

"I gave him the cliff notes version," Buffy told Dawn with a shrug in response to the confused look her sister gave her. Dawn nodded in understanding.

"Perhaps we should move this conversation into the kitchen?" Giles suggested. "Lori is preparing some food and I believe there should be coffee and-"

"Oooh, coffee!" Dawn exclaimed already hurrying towards the kitchen. "Oh my god, I missed coffee so much! I mean, the tea wasn't bad, but mmmm coffee... nothing beats the caffeinated beverage of the gods!"

"I think that's a 'yes', G-man," Xander said with a chuckle as the rest of the group followed.

Willow snorted. "I don't see you arguing with her sentiment."

"Of course not. I willingly worship regularly at the alter of the gods of caffeinated beverages."

"The only ones worth worshiping, right?"

"Exactly. I won't even care too much if I find out they're really ugly demons. I mean, I'll be super disappointed and all, but will still continue the worship. Unless they, like, eat babies or something."

Dawn was already sitting at the table with a large mug of coffee cradled between her hands and a blissed-out expression on her face when they entered the kitchen. Both Xander and Willow poured themselves a mug each and then Xander reset the coffee maker to brew a fresh pot as Willow sat down next to Buffy, who was still watching her sister as if she expected her to disappear at any moment.

"So, seriously, no one figured out you were the Slayer's sister?" Xander asked as he came down the stairs.

"Nope. I was stuck in a dungeon the entire time. Didn't even meet the Big Bad, 'cause they probably thought I wasn't important enough. Other than Draco, I pretty much only saw the other prison guards and, like, maybe three other wizards. Oh and Angela."

"Angela?" Buffy asked with a frown.

"Azazella's human alter ego. See she didn't remember, who she was at first and thought she was Angela or something..." Dawn trailed off and frowned, remembering Draco's words to the servant the first time she'd seen her. "Or maybe that was the name someone had given her, 'cause now that I think about it she might have been suffering from amnesia in general. I never actually asked how that worked."

"Wait a minute, so you're saying the massively powerful Old One was hiding in human form because somehow she couldn't remember she was a demon in the first place?" Buffy asked.

"Woah! Time out there Buffster!" Xander exclaimed, making the universal two-handed sign for 'time out'. "Where'd this Old One suddenly come from and where is, um, she now?"

"Not sure. She said she stuff to do, but I could call for her and she'd be here in, like, seconds."

"Dawn's got herself her own personal super-powerful demon bodyguard," Connor said from his spot next to the coffeemaker (apparently another devout worshiper of the gods of caffeinated beverages).

"Well, if anyone could use a super-powerful demon bodyguard..." Xander began, grinning madly at the glowering pout Dawn directed at him.

"Dawn," Giles began after sharing a 'oh here we go again' look with Lori, "why don't you start from the beginning and tell us what happened. That might be easier than trying to piece things together from the fragments we've been getting so far."

Dawn nodded and took another sip of her coffee before beginning her story.

* * *

Draco woke up slowly, coming to awareness a little at a time, feeling a lethargy and calmness he hadn't felt in a very long time. His limbs felt heavy and his eyes wouldn't open and it wasn't until the heat he was surrounded by became too unbearable and suffocating that he managed to find the energy to move enough to dislodge the covers wrapped around him. He brought a hand up to his face when he realized his eyes wouldn't open because they were stuck together.

His first glance of the room he was in was enough to remind him of what had happened earlier (was it yesterday or still today?). In many ways, the room was an ordinary bedroom: there was the bed he was laying on, there was a dresser and some shelves along one side and a window covered by thick, green and navy curtains, behind which Draco could see bright sunlight being kept mostly hidden. It wasn't a particularly big room – his bedroom at home being about four times the size – but, he supposed, the Head Boy at Hogwarts didn't have a much bigger room than this.

Next to the bed, a small, wooden table held an odd, rounded black box with green, glowing numbers - a muggle clock, Draco assumed. It read 13:45. Draco blinked, wondering how he'd managed to sleep for so long in the middle of the day. Neither at home, nor at Hogwarts would such a thing have been tolerated. His hand shot out as soon as he spied his wand sitting beside it, the familiar feel of magic-infused wood giving him a sense of security he happily clung to.

As he slid the wand off the table, he picked up the piece of white paper tented over it. He unfolded it and squinted in the semi-darkness of the room in order to read it.

_Draco,_

_Hope you're feeling better. Come join us downstairs when you're up. If you want to wash up first, bathroom's down the hall to your left. Bright purple door. We're washing your clothes, but Xander's left you some clean ones in the bathroom or you can raid the closet in this room._

_Any questions, just ask. We'll be in the library or the kitchen._

_Dawn._

Nervous little butterflies fluttered inside Draco's stomach. He idly wondered how long he could get away with just staying inside this room. Unfortunately, both his stomach and his bladder were telling him that not very long. Taking a deep breath, Draco clutched his wand and threw the covers off of him. He blinked when he noticed he was only in his underclothes, his face beginning to burn when he realized someone must have undressed him.

Deciding he'd rather not dwell on that fact, Draco stood up, the wood floor feeling cool beneath his still-socked feet, and walked over to the window. Slowly, he pushed the edge of the curtain aside and peered out, curious whether the outside would look somehow inherently muggle. The window overlooked a large yard with several bushy trees spread throughout its edges. At the center of the grassy area, a group of girls lead by Buffy were doing some sort of exercises, each holding a sword as they fluidly moved their bodies from one position to the next. He watched for a few minutes, mesmerized by the spectacle they made as they moved in unison.

Then Buffy stopped what she was doing and turned around, scanning the building until she looked up and spotted him. She grinned widely and waved. Draco jerked in surprise and waved awkwardly back, before letting the curtain fall close again and stepping away from the window.

Screwing up all the courage he possessed, Draco grabbed the brown and blue plaid bathrobe he saw thrown over a strange-looking desk chair (he assumed it was meant as a desk chair since it was sitting in front of what was likely supposed to be a desk, even if it was covered in bizarre, unmoving figurines) and threw it on. Then he grabbed the stack of clothes, inspecting the colourful ensemble of garments, hoping he could manage to figure out how the muggle clothes were intended to be worn – even worse than having to wear muggle clothes would be to make a fool of himself by not wearing them correctly.

Well, muggles managed to do it, so surely he, Draco Malfoy, could figure it out.

Taking a deep breath and clenching his hand around his wand, he slowly opened the door and peeked out. The hallway was silent, though brightly lit from some sort of round spheres on the ceiling. Draco blinked up at the light source. He'd honestly never given it any though as to how muggles lived without magic, so it was a bit surprising to find himself looking at something that could very well have been done with magic, yet knowing there was no magic involved in making it work. He decided he'd have to ask Dawn about it later.

He found the bright purple door with no problem – it did stand out rather a bit in a hallway of brown, wooden doors. He wondered if it was purple in order to make sure no one opened the wrong door in the middle of the night.

He'd been rather expecting a communal bathroom of some sort, so it was a pleasant surprise to find this was a regular, single-person bathroom. It wasn't overly large, but at this point Draco was simply glad no one could walk in to find him floundering with trying to figure out the muggle apparatuses.

Which, as it turned out, was actually not as much of a problem as Draco was afraid it would be. A very helpful someone had already thought of that. The entire room was labeled with small, yellow papers. Now, some of it was rather unnecessary, such as the one that read 'toilet', since that was rather self-evident, however the note next to a little lever on the side that read 'press down to flush', was. Draco also had confidence he would've figured out which tap was hot and which one was cold as well as which way to turn them, but it made the twisted bundle of nerves inside of him ease a little to know his new friends cared enough to try and simplify his transition into the muggle world.

When he got to the shower, he found himself incredibly grateful for the small instructions as the large knob in the center of the wall looked couldn't have looked more alien if it had tried. He got the shower going and smiled as he stepped under the spray.

He cheated and dried his hair using his wand, finishing it off with a simple styling spell. The muggle clothes proved a bit more of an adventure, but luckily not horribly difficult. Obviously, the article with two long tube-like openings was meant for his legs, even if it took him two tries to get them on properly.

Finally, he used his wand to place the towel he'd used into the hamper in the corner and then stuck it into his back pocket. He walked out of the bathroom, feeling much better than he had since before his mother died.

Draco closed his eyes against the grief that momentarily overwhelmed him at that thought, although, while picturing his mother's face hurt, it no longer felt like he was going to fall apart if he thought of her.

Of course, he realized with a cringe, that was probably because he'd already done that. His face heated when he realized what a wonderful first impression that must've made on Dawn's friends. He hoped that at least it would make them feel sorry for him and therefore make them treat him nicer as a result...

He swallowed and wrenched the door open. He was a Malfoy; he would not allow them to see any more weaknesses.

Draco paused at the bottom of the stairs, trying to figure out which way to the kitchen... or perhaps finding Dawn should be his first priority. The bathroom proved to be relatively simple to figure out, but he wasn't sure if kitchen appliances would be as easy – he'd never even done anything in a magical kitchen, which did not bode well for his ability to figure out a non-magical one.

As he stood there, pulling at the sleeves of the more restrictive muggle clothes (although he'd been thankful for the long sleeves which covered up his Dark Mark) and trying to figure out what to do, a door on the right opened and a young man with dark hair and an eyepatch walked out carrying a tall, blue container and a large, empty plate.

The man paused when he saw Draco and then smiled.

"Hey, you're awake," he said, before opening the door again. "Hey Dawn, Draco's awake!" he called into the room he'd just exited.

Someone called something back and the man closed the door behind him. He walked towards Draco with a friendly smile.

"She's on the ladder trying to find some sort of really old, really boring text that is probably super important and likely written in a language I've never even heard of, so she'll join us in the kitchen in a few. I'm on my way for a snack refresh and you're probably starving, so you might as well follow me."

Draco nodded, relieved at the lack of hostility and also that he wouldn't have to wander around looking for the kitchen.

"I'm Xander, by the way," the man added as he lead the way.

"Good to meet you, Xander," Draco answered politely, recognizing the name from many of Dawn's stories. "From Dawn's note I take it I have you to thank for the change of clothes."

Xander glanced at him and shrugged.

"Well, it's not a perfect fit, but at least I'm taller than Andrew and I didn't think you'd want to wear any of Giles' old man clothes."

"I heard that!"

The new voice startled Draco and he tensed, glancing to Xander, who met his eyes with a wink and a wide grin.

"Hey G-man, what's the what?"

An older man stepped out of another room at the end of the hall and scowled at Xander.

"The Prime Minister will be leaving tomorrow morning. One of his colleagues is sending his wife to pick him up in order to keep our involvement a secret for as long as possible. It likely won't be possible for much longer, but we might as well extend it as long as we can."

"Right. We'll have to fight eventually, but might as well give us as much time to get ready as possible."

"Exactly. Also, I just got off the phone with Faith's doctor. She's healed enough to go home tomorrow morning, but he's recommending she take it easy for at least a week even with her exceptional healing and then undergo lifestyle therapy sessions for the foreseeable future."

Xander took a deep breath, his friendly, happy demeanor gone, replaced with worry. Buffy had told them what had happened to Faith during their car ride from Hogwarts and Draco winced in sympathy. Even with magic, bones could be regrown, but whole limbs was another matter.

"However, that aside, where are my manners?" the older man turned his attention now to Draco. "Rupert Giles, Head of the Watcher's Council."

Draco took his offered hand and shook it, pleased by the warm, confident handshake.

"Draco Malfoy. Thank you for allowing me to come here."

Giles snorted. "I wasn't as though I was actually given a choice. By the time I knew about you, you were already here."

"Yes, but you could've turned me away, especially if you're hoping to avoid getting mixed up in the war."

"Like it or not, I'm afraid we passed the point of no return the moment Dawn was kidnapped. Now that we know about it, we have a duty to participate in this war. It's simply that I would rather do it on our terms and that means gathering as much information as we can before the enemy begins actively targeting us. As this enemy is comprised primarily of magic users, we need to prepare ourselves all the more. I hope I can count on your knowledge of the Wizarding World and its magic to help with that."

Draco paused, thinking carefully about the request. The man had every right to request Draco's help in exchange for giving him sanctuary. He wasn't asking him to fight, though, only to give them information to help them fight. If he was being brutally honest, Draco would admit the Slytherin inside him was curious to see how these muggles (well, mostly muggles) planned to combat wizards.

He nodded. "I'll provide what information I can."

Giles smiled gratefully. At which point Draco's stomach decided to make itself known. As Draco's cheeks heated, Xander sniggered.

"In the meantime, I see we are being absolutely atrocious hosts," said Giles. "Come, I'm sure we can cobble something together for you to eat."

This time it was Draco, who stopped as something caught his eye. It was so familiar, it stood out in the unfamiliar, muggle surroundings. He touched it gingerly, just to make sure it was real, and jumped back as a jolt of magic ran through him.

"Draco?" Xander called.

"Where did you get this?" Draco asked.

"Um, I think some of the girls found it in one of the warehouses."

"Oh my god, you guys haven't made it to the kitchen yet?"

Draco turned to see Dawn walking down the hall towards him. She'd clearly showered and changed clothes as well and he had to admit she looked much better, even if it was a bit odd to see her wearing something different. When she saw what had caught Draco's attention, she froze with a gasp.

"I _knew_ that thing looked familiar!"

"What, the shield?" Xander asked, looking confused.

"Yeah. Remember how we were going to have Willow take a look at the thing?"

"That's right, we were," Giles confirmed, looking equally perplexed. "However, more important things came up."

He didn't need to say what 'more important things' those were. Dawn nodded as she came up beside Draco.

"Well, I think we really need to get Willow to look at it."

"Not that I'm necessarily disagreeing with you, but why do you think it's suddenly so important?"

Dawn and Draco exchanged looks.

"This is the Ravenclaw coat of arms, the symbol of one of the Founders of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry," said Draco slowly.

"According to Harry's info, Voldemort was/is/whatever obsessed with collecting things that used to belong to the four Hogwarts Founders and using them in his grand evil schemes." Dawn paused and took a deep breath. "There's a very good chance that this shield is a horcrux."

* * *

_Severus Snape walked down a bright corridor. It was completely deserted and the only sound he could hear was a barely-detectable humming. Metal lockers lined the walls and odd bits of trash littered the ground, as if the school had been very suddenly abandoned not too long ago._

_It occurred to him to wonder just how he knew it was a school. It looked nothing like Hogwarts, or any other school he'd ever been to. He couldn't feel any magic either and he found it strange that apart from the bright sunshine spilling in from the open classroom doors, there were also rectangles of light on the ceiling . . . He stopped walking._

_He was inside a muggle school. Why was he inside a muggle school?_

_He racked his brain. Was he on a mission? If so, why couldn't he remember the mission? Perhaps something in the building would remind him. Curiously, he peered into one of the classrooms._

_And did a double take._

_He walked through the room and looked out the window. Palm trees. Why were there palm trees? It was in that moment that Severus realized he must be dreaming. Damn potion fumes._

_"Wow, this place brings back so many memories," a cheerful female voice said from behind him._

_He spun around. There was a beautiful, tanned young muggle woman with short, dark hair sitting on top of what he assumed was the professor's desk. She was dressed as he had seen many Muggles dress in the middle of summer, revealing far too much skin than he thought appropriate. Then again, he never did think much of muggle fashion. She had a thoughtful, somewhat sad, look on her face. Then she turned to him and smiled. Hers was the kind of smile that could instantly brighten up any room._

_Well, if his demented mind was going to insist on dreaming about some random muggle female, at least she was pretty._

_"Hi, you must be Severus," she beamed at him. He nodded, taken slightly aback that she knew his name. Then he reminded himself this was a dream. Of course she knew his name; she was a figment of his imagination, after all._

_She hopped off the desk and came to stand next to him by the window._

_"It looks so peaceful," she said as she looked out the window. "Hard to imagine it's all gone now. I think I'm actually going to miss it. Or, well, I would if I wasn't dead and all. I mean, yeah, so we had more than our fair share of demons, vampires, weird zombie thingies and man-eating creepy crawlies, but overall, this was a pretty good town."_

_She sighed and then walked out the door. Severus stared at the empty doorway. Then he swore and ran after her._

_"Where am I?" he asked the moment he'd caught up._

_"What, this? Oh, this is good ol' Sunnyhell High. Well, this is what it looked like when I was here anyway. Don't know what the new version of Hellmouth Central looks like. Not that the new one exists anymore either. I mean, what evil brain-sucking thing possessed them to build the new one on the same spot anyway? You'd think that with the death rate and general creepiness, they'd get a clue."_

_"What in the world are you blathering about woman? Kindly answer my question in a language resembling English!"_

_"Geez, what is with all you British people and not understanding?" She waved her arms, motioning at the building. "This is the Sunnydale High School, the only high school in Sunnydale."_

_His eyes widened momentarily and his head snapped to look at her._

_"Sunnydale? Is that in California, by any chance?" _

_"Well, duh. Of course it's in California. Get with the program, Mr. Tortured Soul version 2.0."_

_He gritted his teeth as he glared at her. Trust him to create a beautiful dream woman he couldn't stand. The least his subconscious could've done was create a woman he felt comfortable around. _

_She ignored him. Suddenly, she turned the corner and walked through a set of double doors which nearly hit him square in the face as they swung backwards when he followed. Annoyed, Severus threw the offending doors open and swept into the room, adopting the same manner and expression he used to terrify impressionable, young students._

_"Who are you and what in Merlin's name am I doing here?" he demanded._

_"What's Merlin got to do with anything?" _

_Severus groaned. She really was a muggle._

_"Nevermind. . . this is what I get for expecting a dream to make sense."_

_"I'm not a dream."_

_Severus looked up. The woman was sitting on top of a long table in the middle of the room. For the first time since he had entered, Severus looked around the room. It was a library. It wasn't as large as the Hogwarts one, but it was spacious and, somehow, more inviting. _

_"What do you mean, this isn't a dream?"_

_"Okay, so you are dreaming, so__** technically **__I guess I'm a dream. But I'm also a real person, or at least I was a real person before I died, but that is so not the point right now." She took a deep breath and smiled at him again. "This school was once a real place. See, that circle design thing on the floor. That's where the Hellmouth is."_

_"The what?" Severus took a surprised step backwards and the woman chuckled._

_"Yup, you're standing on top of the Bocca del Inferno. Kinda cool, isn't it?"_

_"So, that's what she meant. . ." Severus said to himself not taking his eyes off the design on the floor._

_"What who meant?" _

_"The girl, the muggle Draco was guarding. . . she said she was from Sunnydale, California as if she expected it to mean something to us." He chuckled. "So she grew up by the Hellmouth. No wonder the dementors didn't affect her like they do everyone else."_

_"Oh, you mean Dawn!" Startled, Severus looked back to her. _

_"You know her?"_

_"Yeah, she's Buffy's little sister. Oh, and don't worry, both she and Draco are safe."_

_"Buffy? Who's Bu-"_

_"Doesn't matter. That's not why I'm here." _

_"Then why are you here?" He paused. "And who are you?"_

_"I'm Cordelia Chase. But right now, I'm a messenger for the Powers That Be." Severus must've looked confused, because she continued. "You know, the higher powers, the ones that oversee the world and make sure all the good and evil are balanced or whatever. Not to mention how they just love to randomly mess up people's lives in order to make sure the world stays all balanced - did I mention that they're generally rather annoying?"_

_Now Severus was openly staring at her. He found himself for the first time actually believing that this dream was more than a dream. If for no other reason than he didn't think his subconscious had such a vivid imagination. Cordelia rolled her eyes and hopped off the table. Suddenly all of her bubbly smiles were gone and she was standing with her hands on her hips and a dead serious expression on her face._

_"Listen buster, time's running short. You've got the info, but it's not going to be any good to anyone if you keep it to yourself. You want redemption? Well you're not going to get it by sitting on your ass in a gloomy potion's laboratory!"_

_"Yes, I have collected information on the Dark Lord's plans, but he's been very careful. I have no idea what any of it means. With Dumbledore gone, I doubt there's anyone in the Order intelligent enough to figure it out."_

_"There are others who will."_

_Severus snorted._

_"That's assuming they believe any of it in the first place. They have no reason to believe me even if I follow Dumbledore's instructions. In all likelihood they'll think it's a trap."_

_"Gee, aren't you Mr. Negative. Why do I always get the dark broody ones?" She thought for a moment, then a mischievous smile appeared on her face. "Tell them. . . tell them that Queen C says hi."_

_"Queen C? I don't understand."_

_"You're not supposed to. But the people it's meant for will."_

_"I see."_

_"No, you don't, but that's okay. Just do your part and everything will work out eventually. It always does. Now, as much fun as this has been, it's time for you to wake up."_

_Suddenly the world around him began to spin. Then he woke up._

* * *

Well, there you have it! Possibly not the most exciting chapter ever, but a lot of important things happened. Now, please review!

Author's Noties:

**Biggles – **Nickname for James Bigglesworth, a pilot and adventurer, is the title character and main hero of the _Biggles series_ of youth-oriented adventure books written by W. E. Johns published from 1932 until 1968, when the author died. According to my beta, this would've been a series of book many boys of those and later generations would've known and read, sort of like the American _Hardy Boys_ except with airplanes. My thanks to Wikipedia for the actual explanation though.

I trust I don't need to explain James Bond.


	24. Chapter 23

Nope, none of you are insane (or any less sane than you were when you got up this morning in any case), nor are you hallucinating. Nor is this some sort of annoying re-post because of editing or something. This is an honest-to-god update. I'd say it was to make up for taking so long with the last one, but, really, it's the result of new laptop + beautiful days and a balcony + several long train rides to my mother's. Don't get used to it. Although I do have another couple of long train rides ahead of me next week, so you never know.

Anyway, thanks to everyone, who read and reviewed the last chapter and to **Biblios** for betaing this one and making sure it made sense to people who aren't me.

Disclaimer: I own a few original characters and the prophecy and nothing else.

* * *

**Prophecy of the Four**

**Chapter 23 –** The Path to War

The part Dawn hated the most about making coffee was waiting for it to finish brewing. This was partially because as the Laws of Impatience stated, when one was actually waiting for something it inevitably took said thing twice its usual time to complete its program and partially because the evil coffee machine was immune to glares, curses and threats. Which is why she normally made a point of never being the first one awake, because the first one up was always the one to make coffee.

Unfortunately, her brief time at Hogwarts, which had followed her time in a dungeon with very little lighting, had put her biological clock into an 'early morning mode'. She was sure it wouldn't last more than a day or two of being back at the Watcher's Council and their creature-of-the night schedule, however that hadn't helped her this morning. At 8:30 am she'd finally decided to stop fighting it and gotten up to shower and then make coffee. On her way down she'd noticed Andrew's door was open and was sure she could hear the boy's shower running. Which meant Draco was awake as well.

The rest of the house was quiet as a pre-dawn graveyard (as in, after the vampires had gone to ground for the night and before the birds had woken up). The only thing in the kitchen that had been touched was the tea kettle and one lonely mug – one of those tourist souvenirs you could get anywhere in London decorated with a union jack. It was from their international mug collection which represented all the people living at the Watcher's Council; Buffy had even managed to find one with the Californian flag on it and Xander had added a plain black one with bold, blood-red print, which read 'I survived Sunnydale... mostly'.

Dawn was so completely absorbed in scowling at the coffeemaker that she jumped when someone cleared their throat from the doorway. She turned to face a tall, slim man with short, light brown hair. He had light blue eyes and a pleasant face. He looked like he might be a bit younger than Giles, or else had been blessed with a very youthful-looking face. Or possibly it was the clothes. Currently he was wearing a plain blue t-shirt and white and black plaid pyjama bottoms, but he was one of those men who looked like they probably wore a suit on a daily basis no matter what they were currently sporting. Or at least Dawn's mind wanted to put him into a suit for some reason.

He looked somewhat familiar, but she was sure she'd never met him. Had Buffy mentioned any new watcher arrivals?

"Good morning," he said in a soft, smooth voice and a very pleasant, proper accent. "I was told I might be able to find something to drink here?"

Dawn blinked.

"Uh, good morning," she said. "Of course, this is the kitchen after all. Coffee should be done soon, but otherwise there's tea and juice is in the fridge."

"If it's alright with you, then I would love to wait for the coffee."

"Sure, don't know how long it'll be though..." She glanced over her shoulder at the machine and noticed the little red light was off now. "Oh, nevermind; it's done. Guess it was waiting for me to look away."

The man chuckled.

"Yes, I find they like to do that."

Dawn picked out two mugs from the cupboard (California and Wales) and poured the coffee. She kept the Californian one and placed the one with the bright red Welsh dragon in front of the strange man. She went to the fridge and got out the cream, asking the man with a gesture whether he'd like some. He simply smiled and shook his head as he took a sip of his black coffee.

After his first sip he blinked at the coffee.

"So is this the undead brew?" he asked.

"Undead?"

"As in, made to wake the dead."

"Oh. Uh, no, just the rest of us. We like the dead to stay dead around here."

"Understandable."

Dawn sat down, watching the man as she took her first sip of coffee. Oh how she missed this while she was in Wizardland. While she had developed an appreciation for tea, nothing beat the instant rush of strong coffee.

"So, I'm Dawn," she finally said, hoping to prompt the strange man in their kitchen to explain who he was and what he was doing here – other than drinking 'undead brew' coffee like it was hot chocolate.

He looked at her and his eyebrows shot up.

"Oh, so your Buffy's sister," he said and then smiled. "I'm glad you've managed to come back safely."

He held out a hand for her to shake, which she did, feeling all the more confused and not a little irritated at strange men who confused her first thing in the morning.

"It's nice to meet you Dawn. I'm Anthony Davidson."

It took a few moments for the coffee to fire up the synapses in her brain and then she practically gaped as she placed the name and remembered the story Buffy had told her in the car the day the day before. She was sharing coffee at the kitchen table with the _Prime Minister _of flippin' Britain!

"Oh wow, it's an honour to meet you. Wait, weren't you injured? Should you actually be drinking coffee?"

He shrugged.

"Someone's coming to pick me up and take me home in a bit anyway and then I've got to go to the office. If I'm recovered enough to deal with running a country, I'm recovered enough to drink coffee. Besides, what Anora doesn't know, won't hurt me."

He winked at Dawn, who grinned back.

Just then, she heard the front door open and several soft voices could be heard entering the house. She instantly recognized Giles, but the other female's voice made her frown. That wasn't Faith.

"Yo, back off, I'm not a fucking invalid!"

That, however, was. Dawn smiled and took a sip of her coffee. Then she placed her mug back onto the counter and headed to the lobby.

She paused in the hallway's shadows for a few seconds before stepping out into the front lobby. Faith was in the process of slipping off her shoes. She was wearing a pink fluffy robe Dawn recognized as belonging to Buffy (she seriously doubted Faith owned such a thing as a robe), with the left sleeve knotted about three quarters of the way down to prevent it from flopping too much. Her hair hung limply around her face, although it did appear as though someone had at least attempted to brush out the tangles. When she looked up, Dawn was struck by how pale she looked.

"Hey Faith," Dawn said softly, knowing the slayer's sharp hearing wouldn't miss it.

"Yo, Little D," Faith greeted softly back with a wan half-smile.

Dawn tried her best not to react to how the older girl looked, knowing Faith didn't need her pity (and would likely kick her ass for so much as suggesting it). Her eyes were missing their energetic spark and the dark circles underneath them made the lack of makeup stand out even more. Her moves were slow and careful, although she didn't appear to be in any pain.

There was something strange about the picture she was presenting. And that was when Dawn realized she'd never seen a crippled slayer before. Heavily injured, yes, but not crippled in any way. Slayers healed very fast and anything their bodies couldn't heal was generally mortal. It hit her with the force of a lightning storm: she'd seen dead slayers and she'd seen living slayers. There simply wasn't any in-between.

Before she even realized what she was doing, Dawn had crossed the lobby and enveloped Faith in a hug.

"I'm so glad you're alive," she whispered.

For all her slayer reflexes, it took Faith a few moments to react to the hug. Finally one arm came around Dawn and squeezed gently. Well, she was sure Faith was being gentle, though it still felt like a vice around her torso.

"Thanks, D, I'm glad I'm alive too." Faith let go and Dawn followed her lead and stepped away from her. "I'm a bit useless now, though."

The bitterness in Faith's voice sent pangs of sympathy through Dawn's chest. So, she took a deep breath and decided to give a proper Scooby response.

"Don't be ridiculous." Faith blinked, the bitterness and self-pity surprised out of her by the words. "You managed to not break Rule One, everything after that, we'll deal. You're strong, Faith, you'll be out there kicking demon and vampire ass faster than Buffy disappearing into a brand new Prada outlet!"

Faith snorted at the comparison and Dawn warmed at the amusement she saw in them.

"So, bow and arrow or crossbow is out of the picture. You can still throw spears or axes or steel pipes or whatever at the bad guy."

"There will absolutely not be any sort of spear-throwing in the house," Giles interrupted firmly. "I also would rather you not destroy the targets outside in your enthusiasm."

"Oh, right, sorry Giles."

Dawn exchanged a look with Faith, whose eyes sparkled with mischievousness that proved just how much she loved the idea of picking up a few spears to target practise with. Giles groaned, knowing he'd lost this match.

From the other side of them, Dawn heard a feminine giggle. She looked over to the unknown woman, wondering why there were suddenly so many people she didn't know around. The woman saw her looking and apparently took it for the hint Dawn sort of meant it to be.

"Hello, you must be Dawn Summer," she said with a friendly smile as she stepped forward. "I don't believe we've met yet. I'm Anora Wyndham-Price."

"Wyndham-Price?" asked Faith, raising an eyebrow. "I didn't know that was your last name. Any relation to...?"

"Wesley was my older brother."

"Oh. I'm sorry he didn't make it then."

Sadness flashed through Anora's eyes.

"Thank you." Then she something behind them made her eyes narrow. "Good morning Mister Prime Minister. What exactly do you think you're doing there?"

The friendly smile never left her face, but the steel lacing her voice was unmistakable. It was a rather curious combination. Dawn looked behind her, snickering at the caught-with-his-hands-in-the-cookie-jar look on the prime minister's face. His eyes shifted a bit to the side as though wondering if there was somewhere he could dump the incriminating coffee.

Finally he seemed to decide that there was no point in pretending he wasn't drinking coffee and therefore might as well face it head on.

"I'm having coffee as I have to get back to running this country in about an hour and thus will need to be as awake and aware as possible," he said, back straight and his chin thrust out. "We politicians don't actually sleep on the job, you know."

The corners of Anora's lips twitched as she tried not to laugh.

"Not that you could tell most of the time," she quipped.

"You're the prime minister?" Faith asked.

"Yes, I am. Anthony Davidson at your service. You must be Faith."

"Uh, yeah."

The prime minister approached Faith and stuck out his hand.

"I wanted to take the opportunity to personally thank you for saving my life."

Faith blinked at the hand for a moment and shifted from one foot to the other a few times, until it was clear the hand wasn't going to go away. Tentatively, she reached out with her uninjured right arm and shook the prime minister's hand.

"Thanks, uh, it was nothing: all in a night's work." She let go of his hand and scratched the back of her neck. "Thanks for the flowers and chocolate though. It was real nice of you."

He smiled widely. "You're welcome, Faith. It was the least I could do."

Faith's answer was interrupted by the doorbell.

Giles was closest to the door, so he answered it.

"Yes, hello?" Dawn heard him say. She didn't hear the response, but beside her, Faith grinned at the prime minister.

"Looks like your ride's here, Mr. PM," she said.

"Well, then I suppose I shouldn't keep Lisa waiting. Her husband's likely to lecture me senseless anyway, might as well avoid the speech about making him wait, because his wife took too long."

After a few sincere farewells, the man left to head home for a shower and a change before heading back to his normal, everyday life (although he highly suspected the words 'normal' and 'everyday' were a bit of a joke at this point). Dawn then turned to Faith.

"So, looks like you've got yourself quite the powerful fan."

"Uh, yeah, apparently. And with really good taste in chocolate. Or at least he knows people, who know their chocolate. It was almost worth losing an arm to have some."

Dawn laughed. Then she introduced Faith to Draco, who had just come down the stairs.

* * *

Anthony looked around his office for about the hundredth time since arriving back half an hour ago. He still expected it to somehow look different, as if to somehow embody the changes he'd gone through during the past several days. It never did, though.

He stood suddenly and moved to the window, running a hand through his hair as he looked out, not actually taking in anything he was seeing. His thoughts raced through everything that had happened, everything he had learnt, everything he had helped plan.

He took a deep breath. He hated keeping the citizens in the dark. It went against everything democracy stood for. Government conspiracies was something that came out of Hollywood movies and overactive imaginations. It wasn't that he believed everything should be made public, but this was a _war_ he was keeping secret. Talking to Rupert had eased part of his mind, but not all of it.

Maybe that was a good thing. Or maybe it meant he was too naive to be doing this job in the first place.

The phone on his desk rang.

It took three rings to jostle Anthony out of his thoughts. He cursed under his breath and dived for the phone.

"Yes?"

"Prime Minister?" his temporary secretary's voice came from the other end. "The American President is on the line for you."

Anthony gulped. Well, this had been his own idea, so he couldn't very well back out now.

"Yes, thank you, Ms Pike," he said. "Please put him through."

"Very well, sir."

There was a series of clicks and some dead air. Then one last click, which indicated he'd just connected to a secure line. Oh good, he'd taken his request seriously.

"Scott?" he asked, hesitantly. President Scott Carson was a large, jovial man, with whom Anthony got on very well on a personal level, even when they clashed on a professional level as happened often with two world leaders. It had taken the man a full year to convince Anthony to call him by his given name and Anthony still felt nervous doing it over the phone just in case someone else was listening.

"Anthony, man, it's good to hear from you!" Anthony moved the receiver further away from his ear. Oh yes, the American president was also a loud man. "Sorry it took me so long to get back to you, but, well, you know how it is. I've managed to wrangle up some time from my schedule, but not a whole lot, so you'll have to forgive me if I just get right down to business. So, what's up that's so important it required a secure personal call?"

"First of all, thank you for returning my call. I completely understand and I'll try not to take too much of your time, however this is important and I felt the information needed to be passed on from me to you personally – with no go-betweens."

"Right, gotcha. Well, I've gotta say you've got my curiosity piqued, that's for sure. This wouldn't happen to have anything to do with you going missing a few days ago? Never did manage to figure out what exactly had happened... I remember hearing something about a hospital and a collapse, but it was all kinda vague. You're alright, I hope."

Anthony smiled. For all that the American President could act like a perfect stereotype, his intuition tended to be spot-on.

"Yes, I'm fine now. You're right though, that is exactly what this is about. Well, more or less." He took a deep breath. "There's no easy way to start this, I suppose, so I'll simply begin by asking if you know about the Wizarding World."

There was a sharp intake of breath on the other side of the line followed by a pause. It was all the answer Anthony needed.

"In that case, I'll continue on to ask if you'd been informed by your wizarding liaison about the war going on over here?"

"Yes, I'd been informed briefly, but they said it wasn't anything I needed to worry about." Anthony could hear the frown in Scott's voice. "I'm more than a bit surprised that you're calling me about it. I thought the wizards were handling it themselves."

Anthony snorted.

"I take it you didn't read about the so-called terrorist attack in Piccadilly Circus a week ago?"

"I read the condensed blurb my public relations team sent me... hang on! Are you saying that was a wizard attack? Wasn't it your army that sent them packing?"

"Yes, on both accounts. You could say I got a bit fed up with the way the wizards were handling things, which kept resulting in my citizens dying and my government getting blamed for all sort of things that were being caused by a group of magical malcontents."

Scott whistled in admiration.

"Well, I gotta say, I honestly didn't think you had it in you. I'm impressed."

"The Minister of Magic wasn't. Thankfully, even he couldn't argue that many people were saved thanks to the presence of the army. A few well-placed snipers and those wizards honestly didn't know what hit them!"

Scott's laughter made Anthony grin widely.

"Man, I'll have to schedule another state visit soon so we can get together over a bottle of beer and you can tell me all about it! Then I can gloat on behalf of all of us muggles to my own Minister. Anyway, I really hate to hurry you along, but I think I only have another ten minutes at most before my secretary storms in to drag me off to my next appointment."

"Of course, my apologies. I really just wanted to make sure we were on the same page with all this. Although, before I continue onto what happened the other night, I've been told to warn you there's a possibility the dark wizard trying to take over England, Europe and then the World might have started to gather followers, or at least gain support, over in your part of the globe. There's an, um, bloke, who interrupted a sort of recruitment meeting in New York a few weeks ago."

There was a stunned silence on the other end of the phone, followed by a sincere: "Well, fuck."

"Exactly. Now, the reason I know this is because a few days ago, I was attacked. And they weren't ordinary attackers either. I know this sounds crazy, but three nights ago I was attacked by a group of demons. The only reason I'm alive is because there just so happened to be a small group of demon slayers wandering around in the area and they saved my life. Didn't even realize I was the prime minister until the next day if you'll believe it!"

He surprised himself with a huff of laughter. Now that he'd had a chance to absorbe what had happened properly, he was able to shake his head in both amazement and amusement at the whole situation. He paused, waiting to see if there was going to be a response, but the line was conspicuously silent. He pressed on.

"I honestly don't know whether this is something you should be concerned with yourself, however, the demon slayers thought that with everything going on right now it might be prudent that you be made aware of a certain faction within your own military, if you aren't already. Apparently, some of these demon hunters came into contact with this faction some years ago when it was operating out of Sunnydale, California and calling itself the Initiative. They're not entirely sure where it is now or what it's called, but you should be able to get the most complete information from a Captain Riley Finn of the US Marines."

Another pause. This time, Anthony let it linger. He'd said his bit, now it was up to the president.

"Shit, when you drop verbal bombs, you don't go easy, do you?" Scott said eventually. "Wow, okay, so I have no idea what to do with all this. Part of me wants to just declare you completely nuts and go on with my life, but I never took you to have this much of an imagination. And it's a bit late for April Fools."

"Believe me, Scott, I hardly think I could make up something this... interesting if I tried."

He heard Scott take a deep breath.

"Yeah, I didn't think so. Anyway, my secretary's just come in and is giving me the evil eye, so I'll have to cut this short. I guess I'll find out what this Initiative thing is all about and go from there – wait a minute, did you mention Sunnydale, California? That name sounds familiar..."

"It's a crater in the ground now, that might be why."

"A crater, why would-" Anthony heard someone speaking somewhere on the other end. "-oh, okay, Carmen's just reminded me. Small town, suddenly collapsed in on itself, but most of the town managed to evacuate, although no one can quite remembered who ordered the evac. Are you saying a faction of the American military was responsible for that?"

Anthony winced.

"No, no, not at all. I don't actually know the story, but I do gather there is one and it's probably a bit of an epic. However, I got the impression this Initiative group was gone from the town by then and therefore had absolutely nothing to do with anything that happened there. Once things settle down over here, you can come over for that beer and I'll introduce you to a young woman named Buffy Summers, who can tell you the whole story."

"I think I'll be taking you up on that. Damn, now how the hell am I supposed to concentrate on the stupid press conference I'm supposed to be giving next?"

"Sorry."

Scott snorted. "No you're not. I think I definitely just got the reader's digest version, which means whatever you've been dealing with has been a lot worse."

Anthony couldn't argue with that.

"Anyway, I gotta dash. I'm glad you're doing alright. Good luck with this wizarding war!"

"Thanks, Scott. You take care of yourself as well."

"Will do!"

And then Anthony was listening to the dial tone. He replaced the phone into the receiver, shaking his head at the truly bizarre path his life had taken. Had he honestly just been on the phone with the President of the United States of America talking about wizards and demons?

If he got voted out of office at the end of this, perhaps he'd write a book about politicians dealing with demons in their countries. No one would ever believe he was writing from experience.

* * *

Buffy looked up as Willow entered the library, the shield she'd been examining hidden in a folded sheet and tucked under her arm. She waved at her friend and indicated the empty chair beside her at the long, wooden table. The redhead first set the shield gently down onto a table behind them and then sat down. She then raised an eyebrow at the scene directly opposite them.

Xander had apparently taken it as a personal mission to wow their new wizard friend with the many things muggle technology was capable of. The current lesson seemed to be the internet. Or possibly they were playing computer games. It was a bit difficult to tell from where they were sitting. Either way, Draco appeared to be rather engrossed with the laptop screen and kept asking questions. From his other side, Dawn was looking on in amusement.

Buffy shrugged.

"Apparently, television wasn't nearly as impressive when Draco found out just how much work goes into it," she said. "So Xand moved on to loftier things."

Willow giggled. "You mean not even _Lord of the Rings_ impressed the young wizard?"

"I don't think they got to actual movies. I think Xander's kinda hoping that after a few days of confusion cause of missing all sorts of references, Draco's gonna give in and ask to watch these movies and shows himself."

"Think it'll work?"

Buffy shrugged.

"It might. He got very worried when I mentioned the need to go shopping for clothes for him, thinking maybe what he was wearing was unfashionable." She grinned. "I am sooo going to have fun with this one. I mean, it's a full wardrobe we need to get for a young guy who's not that bad looking. Of course, he's nothing compared to the hot redhead, who was eyeballing Dawn the whole time we were there."

Willow perked up.

"Oooh, a hot redheaded wizard was eyeballing Dawn? Did you do the shovel speech?"

"Nah, didn't get a chance, 'sides he was already in a hospital bed with some sort of really weird purple burns all over his body. Would've been a bit unfair. Plus, now he knows I'm the Slayer, so when I do do the shovel speech, it'll be even more threatening."

"Exactly which redhead are you talking about?" a voice growled from behind them. The girls turned to Spike, who was now standing directly behind them.

"Uhh... the older one? The one that didn't have a twin."

"I think tha'd be Charlie. 'e's a dragon breeder or something, I think."

"A dragon breeder?" Willow said, looking somewhere between shocked and intrigued. "That sounds dangerous."

"Also, very cool," added Buffy.

"Uh, yeah, that too."

Just then Giles walked into the room, followed by Faith. Buffy saw the dark-haired slayer hesitate slightly just before squaring her chin and saunter into the room. It almost made it easier to ignore how her empty sleeve dangled limply at her side – the only real indication Faith hadn't entirely come to terms with what had happened to her, because Faith almost never wore long sleeves unless it was the middle of winter and below zero.

"Yo, B, heard you had fun in Castle Oz!" she called out.

Buffy grinned. Beside her, Spike snorted.

"I think it's more like Castle Hogz," he said.

"Do you people have some sort of aversion to calling things by their proper names?" Draco asked, scowling at them in annoyance.

"Yes," Buffy answered primly. "It's really boring."

Draco's scowl deepened as everyone else around the table chuckled, including the younger slayers at the far end.

"Don't worry, Draco," said Giles as he sat down at the head of the table. "Unfortunately, you get used to it."

"That's the spirit, G-man!" Xander exclaimed with a grin.

"Don't call me that."

"I could turn him into a toad for you, if you like."

Draco's casual suggestion (made while he was twirling his wand in one hand and examining the nails of his other) brought a sudden and immediate silence to the table.

"Thank you for the suggestion, Draco," Giles finally answered. "I'll take it under consideration, however, at the moment I don't think it'll be necessary."

"You can do that?" Willow asked, eyes sparkling with excitement.

"Draco!" Xander put a hand over his heart in overly-dramatic outrage. "How could you? I thought we had such a good thing going here."

"Willow!" Giles called out, getting everyone's attention. Willow looked a bit stunned at being called out like that. "Before this degenerates into even more childish territory than it already has, perhaps you should tell us what you discovered about the shield."

Willow blinked twice. "Shield? Oh, right, the shield. Umm, I think Dawn's right. Not that I've ever seen a horcrux before or done a whole lot of soul-y magic other than Angel's re-souling, but there's some really nasty magic in that thing and I think I can sort of feel something that could maybe be a consciousness or something like it. As in, there's definitely a lot of anger inside that thing and I don't think it's just an echo of the caster. It feels like it's a part of the shield itself and that could be a soul – actually I'm pretty sure it is a soul, or at least as sure as I can be having never done anything like this before, especially since the soul's pretty twisted and-"

"Wills, breathe," Buffy interrupted her.

"Thank you." Willow took several deep breaths and then smiled sheepishly. "Sorry. Basically, yes, I think there's a very good chance it's one of those horcruxes the Order of the Phoenix is looking for."

"Thank you, Willow," said Giles.

"You know, I was thinking about this before," Dawn interrupted. "Now that you've got one, do you think it would be possible to maybe do a tracking spell or something in order to find the others? It just seems like a really long-winded way to defeat the bad guy otherwise."

Willow thought about that for a moment.

"It's possible, I suppose," she said eventually. "I hadn't thought of a tracking spell, but I'd pretty much already come to that same conclusion: that this is going to take a reeeaaly long time if we have to run around and collect them all before we tackle the Big Bad."

"It's like a video game," said Xander. "Except without the princess at the end."

"Exactly. Er, sort of. Anyway, I was thinking more along the lines of a soul restoration, like I did for Angelus. I mean, whether we destroy the horcruxes themselves or put the soul fragments back into Voldy, it should have the same result once we actually go on to destroy him."

"Makes sense to me," said Buffy, looking to Giles to see if he had anything to add.

"Yes, I agree, it's definitely worth a shot. Perhaps you should see if you can contact Jenny's old tribe. They were the ones, who created that soul restoration spell in the first place, therefore they might be able to help modify it for this purpose."

Buffy's eyes widened and she exchanged surprised looks with Xander and Willow. Giles almost never spoke of Jenny Calendar.

"Okay, yeah, that sounds like a plan," Willow finally said.

"We also might as well see if we have any information on horcruxes in our library," Lori said from next to Dawn. "No offense to the Hogwarts library, but we have been collecting texts separately from them for quite a bit longer. It's more than possible we have some different information that might be of some help."

"Good idea," said Giles. "Lori, you know this library better than anyone, I believe. Why don't you work together with Willow on this. I'd like to have an idea of what we're up against or what we can do before we go meet the Order of the Phoenix again."

Lori nodded.

"Now, before we give Draco the floor, Spike, Connor and Illyria, you said you'd wandered a bit through the wizard's shopping district before heading off to Hogwarts. What was your take on the Wizarding World."

"They are weak and complacent," Illyria's deep voice cut through the room like a death sentence. "They are nothing more than magical sheep."

Draco looked like he was torn between defending his own kind and staying silent and avoiding the former demon god's ire. Spike snickered, while Connor smirked and decided to speak up before the wizard managed to blow something.

"Uh, I think what Illyria's trying to say is that, while yeah they've got some pretty impressive spells, it's also kinda all they've got. Totally not used to dealing with anyone that doesn't need to use magic in order to be dangerous, like supernatural creatures."

"That's not true!" Draco exclaimed. "Of course we know how to defend ourselves against dark creatures!"

"Look, kid, 'e's not saying you don't know how to defend yourself against them, but that you're not used to it. It's not second nature like it would be to this lot 'ere."

"Draco, did we ever tell you just how we knew to look for Harry Potter at Hogwarts?" Connor asked. "I mean, I know we said that we didn't realize you two would be there, but did we tell you how we figured out to look in Hogwarts in the first place?"

Draco shook his head.

"I overheard a conversation. Come to think of it, I think it might've been that big, redheaded lady - Ron's mom - talking to someone about how Harry and his friends were at Hogwarts over the summer and she was really worried about them. I mean, yeah, she had no way of predicting me, but still, most supernatural creatures have way better hearing than humans."

"Then there's the castle wards," said Spike. "You know, normally I wouldn't 'ave been able to just walk in like that without an invitation. But with the 'eadmaster being dead an' all, the magical protection against vampires and other creepy crawlies that need invitations to enter was gone and no one thought to fix it."

Draco frowned. "But, wouldn't the protections reset themselves once the new headmaster was appointed?"

"Yes, it would," said Willow. "I think what Spike's trying to say is that, in the meantime, there are spells to prevent vampires and such from entering, but no one had thought to cast any."

"Which left it vulnerable to potential vampire attacks, 'cause a lot of normal magical wards don't work against vampires on account of them being technically dead," Xander continued. "It creates all sorts of loop-holes and- what?" At the incredulous look on Draco's face, Xander laughed. "You think just 'cause I can't do magic that I don't know anything about it? Grew up on a hellmouth here, remember? Living in vamp central makes you learn a thing or two fast or it makes you dead."

Draco found he couldn't really argue with that.

"So, basically, they're like normal people, but with a magical bonus?" Buffy interjected.

"Yeah, pretty much," Connor agreed.

"And they use magic for, like, _everything_," said Dawn. "Which would be a serious weakness when up against vampires, demons or slayers, who are physically stronger and faster and have a higher pain threshold."

"Well, we've already come across at least one wizarding spell that doesn't quite work the way it should against a slayer," said Giles.

Draco frowned.

"What do you mean?"

"A couple of weeks ago, Vi and Gwen got hit with some sort of memory spell," Buffy answered. "But it doesn't seem to want to stick." Buffy frowned and then looked at Draco. "At least, we're sort of assuming it's not normal for people to dream about the memories they had erased."

Draco's eyes widened.

"No, definitely not. An obliviate charm should erase all traces of the specific memories." He paused, looking thoughtful for a moment. "Although, I've heard that it is possible to retrieve the memories, but it's not done often, because, depending on the strength of the original spell and the skill of the wizard, retrieving the memories can destroy the person's mind."

Giles nodded.

"Yes, that would make sense," he said. "Illyria said she could sense the memories inside the girls, but it was as though they were wrapped up and sealed away. Which means that, somehow, either the spell wasn't cast properly, or else because they're slayers it doesn't really 'stick' to them the way it should."

"Do you know who cast it?"

"I think she was some sort of magical police," came the quiet response from the other end of the table. They all looked to Vi, whose brow was furrowed in though as she tired to remember as much as possible. "I can't remember any names or anything, but I know the woman who cast the spell had really bright hair – it was green or pink or something."

"Oh wow, that could be Tonks," said Dawn excitedly. "And the magical police are called aurors, by the way."

"Which means she's had extensive training on how to cast memory charms," said Draco. He looked down the table at Vi. "It's highly unlikely she'd cast an obliviate incorrectly, especially twice."

"And in the exact same way," Willow added. She then turned to Vi and Gwen, who was sitting beside her. "If you two don't mind, when we're done here I'd like to take a look and see if I can, um, feel out the spell. I should be able to tell if it was done wrong, if nothing else and maybe even break it completely."

Vi and Gwen exchanged looks and shrugged.

"Yeah, okay," said Gwen.

After a slight pause, Buffy spoke up thoughtfully.

"So, sounds like it might be a good idea to see how slayers react to other wizard spells," she said. Everyone turned to her. Buffy straightened in her chair and looked up and down the table, her eyes lingering on Draco and then Giles.

"Let's face it, we've got to assume that eventually, we'll be facing actual wizards and their magic." The corners of her mouth twitched. "And surprise iced mocaccino attacks won't always work."

"Damn," said Vi with a grin. "There goes my best secret weapon."

Dawn looked to the redheaded slayer with a raised eyebrow. Vi mouth 'later', to which Dawn nodded and then leaned over to Draco to explain what a mocaccino was.

"Sorry, Vi," said Buffy with a quick grin. "Anyway, with Draco's help, I think we should test out a few spells and see if any of them work differently against slayers. I mean, if nothing else, it'd give us a feel for their magic."

"I would also like to test the magic we use against wizarding magic," said Giles. "From Dawn's descriptions I gather it seems to work differently." He smiled slightly at the stunned look Draco was giving him. "I may not be particularly powerful, but, yes, I can do a small degree of magic."

"Oh." Draco shook himself out of his stupor. "I'll be glad to help, but I'm not entirely proficient in all the spells most death eaters use." He paused, looking unsure for a few moments. "Besides, there's very few ways to train against the Unforgiveables."

"Unforgiveables?" Buffy asked. Draco nodded.

"Three spells that have been declared by the Ministry of Magic as the worst of all dark spells. Casting any one of them means an instant sentence to Azkaban prison."

"There's a magical prison?" Xander asked.

"It's an unplottable island surrounded by powerful wards and tall walls and guarded by dementors."

"Oooh, I've 'eard of those!" Spike exclaimed excitedly. "They're these ghosty things that make you relive your worst memories afore they suck out your soul!"

Everyone looked at the grinning blond vampire. Then they looked back to the scowling blond wizard.

"Hang on, they suck out your soul?" said Dawn. She hit Draco on the arm with the back of her hand. "You didn't mention any soul-sucking!"

"Ow! You were a prisoner at the time; it's not exactly like keeping you informed was part of my duties. Besides, I was a bit preoccupied by how much you didn't seem to react to them."

Dawn blinked. "Oh, right. That's what the cliche movie villain guy seemed interested in too."

Now it was Draco's turn to blink. "Oh, you mean Professor- I mean, Severus?"

"Professor?"

"Severus Snape taught potions at Hogwarts and was the Head of Slytherin House." There was pause, during which Draco looked as though he was considering whether or not to finish the story. Finally, he took a deep breath and sighed. "He did what I couldn't and then helped me get out of Hogwarts."

Dawn's eyes widened. "Oh. So, he's the one, who killed Albus Dumbledore."

The realization was said in a quiet voice, but everyone around the table heard her. Draco aimed his gaze at the tabletop in front of him and simply nodded. Spike raised an eyebrow at the proclamation, but said nothing. After a few moments, Giles once more took over the conversation.

"If these dementors were at Voldemort's base, does that mean they're something we need to be concerned with?"

"Yes." Draco looked up at Giles, his gaze steady. "The dementors that used to guard Azkaban aren't there anymore; they've joined the Dark Lord and as a result the prisoners there were able to escape."

Giles nodded.

"Any other magical creatures that you know of that have joined him?"

"Uh, other than Greyback's werewolves and some vampires, the dementors, some giants, possibly some of the goblins, but I'm not entirely sure on that one..." He thought for a moment. "You should also be prepared to face inferi – the Dark Lord always liked using inferi in the past. They're basically magically animated corpses, which makes them easy enough to acquire."

"Like zombies," said Xander. Draco flinched.

"Not quite, but for the moment that analogy will suffice."

"Right, so between giants, demented ghost demons and not-zombies, looks like this war thing definitely won't be boring," Buffy commented.

"Oi, Blue, you take the giants and I'll take the demented things!" Spike called out with a wide grin.

Illyria looked over to him with a flat gaze. Her body rippled into her demon form. She nodded solemnly at the vampire.

"Hey, why do I get the animated corpses?" Buffy protested.

"Killing dead things is what you do, isn't it?"

Giles proceeded to clean his glasses. Once he deemed them clean enough, he replaced them with a sigh.

"Before we all head off to battle with a smile on our faces, I think perhaps we should learn a bit about our opponents, don't you think? Xander, while Draco is helping Buffy and myself to understand a bit about wizarding magic, I want you to lead up the research group to find out what you can about these creatures Draco has mentioned and how they can be defeated."

"Dementors can usually be defeated with a patronus charm-" Draco began.

"Uh, not magical here, remember?" Xander pointed out with a half-raised hand.

"Oh, really? What a pity. Then I suppose you'll just have to run very fast. Or get your soul sucked out. Dementors aren't particularly picky on that score; they'll take a muggle soul if it's there."

Xander scowled at him.

"You know, you're really lucky Dawn likes you."

Draco smiled sweetly at him and looked back to Giles.

"As I was saying, dementors can be defeated with a patronus charm and inferi are weak to fire."

"Okay, see fire I can work with," said Xander.

"Thank you, Draco," said Giles, wondering how it was that his group managed to corrupt everyone they came into contact with. "Xander, see if you can find some alternate sources on these creatures. Perhaps there might be more information on these dementors in our library."

"Right, got it."

"Good. Now Dawn, I'd like you to-"

"Um, actually, I was kinda hoping to spend some time checking a few of our books for information about this prophecy. I did a bunch of research while I was at Hogwarts, but quite frankly, their divinations section sucked. No offense, Draco, but it basically had nothing I was looking for."

"Oh. Well, alright, I suppose that would work. Do let me know what you turn up."

"Roger that."

"W-wait a minute!" Willow interrupted before Giles could continue. "Before we all head off, I would like Draco to go back to those Unforgivable spells that will land people in the magical prison."

"Oh, you mean go back to where this whole conversation started from with the demented thingies?" said Buffy.

"Yes, that."

Draco took a few moments to wrap his head around the abrupt shift in the conversation.

"Right. Um. Well, as I'd mentioned there are three of them: avada kadavra, imperius and cruciatus. Avada kadavra is also known as the killing curse; it kills instantly and there's no counter-curse even if a person had time to cast it. Imperius allows the caster to control the mind of their victim and a skilled wizard can cast it so that its almost undetectable. And crucius-"

"Wait a sec," Buffy interrupted with a frown. "What do you mean undetectable? Like the person doesn't realize they're being controlled?"

"Sort of. I'm not actually sure how much the person being controlled is aware of the curse, although I suppose if done subtly enough they might not. The point is mostly to keep everyone around them from noticing any strange behavior."

"That makes sense," said Xander. "Also, one of the creepiest spells I've ever heard of. And this coming from the person, who goes 'been there, done that' to mind control."

Willow giggled.

"At least this spell doesn't make you eat bugs as a side effect," she said. Xander made a face at the memory.

"How is eating bugs a side-effect to a mind control spell?" Draco asked incredulously.

Xander shrugged. "'Cause it was Dracula."

Draco gaped.

Giles sighed as the conversation once again veered off topic. He let it go on for a few minutes, realizing that this was actually going a long way towards integrating Draco into their group. He held no illusions. As much as he would've liked to be able to promise Draco they would let him stay out of the war they were preparing to embark on, he realized that probably wouldn't be possible. Giles would never send the boy into the front lines, but he was their resident expert on wizarding magic. Until he had a chance to determine better what to expect from the Order of the Phoenix, this was how it stood.

Eventually, Giles cleared his throat.

"Draco," he said gently. "You said there were three Unforgivables?"

"Uh, sorry, yes. The third one is the cruciatus curse. It's a-a, um, pain curse and sends excruciating pain throughout the victim's body without any visible damage."

"And it's sooo not fun," Dawn added. "Feels a bit like someone took your nerves and pulled at them all at the same time and then set them on fire."

"At least you only got a short, mild dose," Draco grumbled beside her, shivering at his own memories of the curse.

"Someone cast a curse on you that's so horrible it could land them in wizard prison," Buffy all but growled at Dawn.

Dawn winced and looked up. Her sister's eyes sparkled with promise of a long and painful death for whoever it was involved. Behind her, Spike's eyes were equally murderous. She heard Draco whimper. Taking a deep breath, Dawn glared both of them down even as she grabbed Draco's hand and squeezed it for reassurance. The gesture didn't go unnoticed by her sister, whose eyes widened moments later in realization.

"You?" She turned on Draco, rising from her seat, her face thunderous. "You tortured my sister?"

"Hang on, B."

The strong feminine hand on her shoulder and the sound of Faith's voice was enough to shock Buffy out of her anger. She looked to her sister-slayer in surprise, wondering why she picked now to finally speak up.

"The kid was the enemy at that point and under orders. Spike filled me in on the story; it was his parent's lives at stake, remember? God knows some of us have done way worse with less reason."

"She's right, Buffy," Dawn jumped in. "This was, like, two minutes after I'd woken up in the prison and between you and Spike I've pretty much got the mouth-off-at-the-bad-guys schtick down to perfection. And the second time he tried, I'd pretty much goaded him into it and it was right after his mother died-"

"Wait, second time, Dawn?"

Dawn cringed. She really wasn't helping here. She looked at Draco apologetically. Draco was looking scared. Suddenly, he frowned.

"But I didn't cast it the second time," he said softly and then looked at Dawn with a curious expression on his face. "You stopped me. And you know, I haven't actually seen you do any magic since then."

Dawn blinked at him and opened her mouth to respond, but nothing came out. She closed it again and frowned.

"Oh yeah, I'd forgotten about that."

"Forgotten about what?" Xander asked.

"I threw him across the dungeon with magic when he tried it a second time. I don't even think I knew what I was doing. I was just really scared and put my hands up and then the next minute he's not casting, but laying against the wall on the other side of the dungeon."

"You didn't say any incantations either; it was like wild magic."

"Well, it's actually not that surprising if you think about it," Willow piped up. Everyone looked at her and she shrugged. "I mean, we already know Dawn has some magical powers and there she was surrounded by magic and someone was about to hurt her."

"Still doesn't change the fact that Draco tortured her," said Buffy. She sighed. "But I suppose if Dawnie's willing to forgive and forget then I guess I can refrain from my usual tearing limb from limbing."

Dawn could practically feel the tension deflate from Draco. She smiled at him and he wearily returned it.

"Very well, I believe we now all have things to do," said Giles. "So let's get to it. I suggest we all meet after dinner to discuss what we've figured out. I don't want to leave it too long before we contact the Order of the Phoenix."

A chorus of agreement followed his words and then the occupants began rising and dispersing. Only Buffy, Draco, Giles remained at the table – Dawn having left to explore the library stacks after a few soft words to Draco. Then Giles felt someone beside him and he looked up into Faith's brown eyes.

"Yo, G-man, so what do you want me to do?" she asked.

She was clearly trying to appear casual, but the anxiety radiating off of her couldn't be so easily concealed. Giles noticed Spike hovering by the library door. That gave him an idea.

"If you feel up to it, then I'd like you to go spar with Spike," he said. Faith's eyes widened, her anxiety taken over by surprise. Giles smiled up at her. "You've lost an arm, Faith, but you're still a slayer, still a warrior. It's a handicap, but not an insurmountable one. I wish I could give you the time to work through this on your own, but unfortunately I'm going to need every available person as soon as possible for dealing with this wizarding war. Which means I need you to figure out how to fight despite your condition."

Faith swallowed and nodded at him. If Giles noticed how shiny her eyes now seemed, he wisely didn't say anything. Moments later, Faith spun abruptly around and stalked towards Spike, the confidence in her steps familiar and so much like her old self, it made Giles and Buffy share happy, relieved smiles.

"Yo, Spike, you heard the man, let get movin'. I wanna get to this kicking your ass thing."

Spike snorted.

"In your dreams, slayer!"

As he closed the door after them, Spike turned and grinned at Giles. Then he closed the door, leaving Giles, Draco and Buffy to their own research.

* * *

The portkey appeared on Voldemort's desk with a slight 'pop'. It wasn't a loud sound by any means and if he hadn't been waiting for it, the Dark Lord likely wouldn't have heard it over the screams of the young muggle Nagini was currently feasting on. His eyes lit up delightedly when he spied the brightly-coloured lollipop he'd given his spy. Tied to it with a bit of brown string, was a scroll.

Leaving Nagini to her dinner, he crossed to his desk and slid the scroll out of the string's loop. Tossing the lollipop to the side, he unraveled the scroll and began to read. It wasn't a particularly long message.

Despite that, his frown deepened the further down he read.

The scroll crumpled in his fist when he was done reading it. In a pique of anger, he threw it to the ground, incinerating it with a flick of his wand. He then grabbed his traveling cloak, throwing it on even as the office door flew open for him to stride through. He took malicious satisfaction out of the way his followers grovelled out of his way as he tore down the halls towards his destination.

The painting of Vindicus Pius Malfoy moved aside when he uttered the password and Voldemort entered a small, circular room.

Inside, the walls were made of naked stone. A couple of purple velvet-cushioned high-backed chairs stood on either side of a small, round wooden coffee table. The set was made of dark mahogany wood and, though in impeccable condition, lacked the ornamental embellishments present in most furniture present throughout the Malfoy Manor. Behind this stood a single, simple mahogany bookcase half-full of books. If one took a closer look, one would notice most of the books were directories or maps or other sorts of travel guides intermingled with a few books on language spells. A few faded black tomes sat inconspicuously on the bottom shelf, but the text on them was so faded – or perhaps worn – with time it was impossible to tell what they were with a mere glance.

Voldemort ignored the furniture in the room, instead heading directly to the large fireplace that dominated the room opposite the entrance. Even the fireplace was of a simple design with no carved dragons, griffins or snakes anywhere. Nor were there any paintings or tapestries hanging above the mantel. All there was, was a single, small black bowl containing green powder sitting on the left hand side of the mantel.

It was a room clearly designed for functionality rather than comfort or aesthetics. Of course, being a room decorated by a Malfoy, that still meant that the velvet high-backed chairs were incredibly comfortable to sit in, the mahogany table was kept polished to perfection and the small black bowl was made of polished obsidian.

It was also a room that did not appear on any building plans and its fireplace was not legally connected to the floo network. It also just so happened that this particular room bypassed the manor's anti-apparation wards.

Voldemort did not allow many of his followers to know about it. In fact, the only people, who likely knew about it were the Malfoy family and a few of their closest relatives – which at the moment comprised of Lucius and Rabastan Lestrange. And Draco Malfoy, but he highly doubted the littlest Malfoy was going to be coming home to visit anytime soon.

The Dark Lord lit the fireplace with a flick of his wand and grabbed a handful of floo powder. He threw the powder into the flames and called out his destination before stepping through.

He came out into a rather large room. To call it a living room would be an incredibly generous gesture as it would imply that someone lived in it. As it was, the room looked it might've once been a living room until it had been abandoned to time and rats perhaps some fifty or so years ago. The plush carpet still retained its blue colour, although it was so covered in dust and rat droppings that it was almost impossible to tell what exact shade of blue it was. Striped wallpaper was still visible on parts of the walls where it clung for dear life despite its peeled, tattered edges. There was also a large, stuffed couch along one of the walls, its cushions having been used as a chew toy by creatures abound over the years.

Rabastan's dark laughter could be heard from the other side of the door. Voldemort smiled and opened the door to join her.

"My lord!" he said respectfully as he bowed deeply. "You honour me with your presence."

"Rabastan," he acknowledged his loyal follower. "How is your special prisoner doing?"

"I'm afraid she may have damaged her vocal chords," the wizard answered sadly. "I got some information out of her first, but nothing we didn't already know."

"Hmm... is that so?"

He took a step further towards the huddled, dirty mess in the corner of the room. Blood, dirt and tears streaked the prisoner's body, making her almost unrecognizable. Her legs dangled limply from her body and looked a bit smaller than they should, as though they missing something inside. Voldemort raised an eyebrow at that. He knew Rabastan had been working on perfecting a spell to grind bones into a fine dust while still inside the body; he wondered if he'd perfected it yet.

The prisoner's first response at seeing him was terror. Voldemort smiled even as the terror was quickly hidden underneath a determined glare.

"I will ask Severus to send you a potion to repair the vocal chords," he said. "Although my spy is having better success than even I anticipated, it would be nice to get everything we can out of this prisoner while we are able."

He looked down at the prisoner and grinned maliciously, showing as many teeth as he could.

"It seems that fool Dumbledore entrusted what he thought was the means to destroy me, to Harry Potter. Not that it matters much anymore. He seems to think I'm predictable, that I would be satisfied with only one plan, one means of gaining victory. I feel I've been grossly underestimated. Oh Potter may go and gather most – perhaps even all – of the horcruxes I'd once created, but I think he'll find my plans have gotten bigger since then. Destroying them will not defeat me, not anymore."

He looked back to Rabastan Lestrange.

"You also might be interested to know that your nephew seems to have found himself an unusual ally."

"He has, my lord?"

"Yes, it turns out that girl he escaped with is the younger sister of the current Vampire Slayer. He's now in her care."

Rabastan blinked in surprise.

"An impressive coincidence, my lord, but even the Slayer is merely a muggle. She is no match for us." He paused. "Does Lucius know?"

"No, I see no reason to tell him. Either way, his son is lost to him as though he were dead."

Rabastan nodded.

"And I agree about the Slayer. She is more of a muggle than a magical being. I'm not concerned. Although, I suppose if there is a Slayer in London, then that would explain what's been happening in regards to the declining numbers in our vampire ranks."

"Yes, it would, my lord."

He stood, silent for a few moments. The Slayer was a rather enigmatic presence in magical lore. One he had read of, but never extensively, as it had hardly been a concern of his. Although, the Slayer was said to be gifted with impressive strength, stamina and speed. Perhaps if he could figure out where this 'gift' came from, he might be able to utilize it himself...

"Well, I have much to do yet," he suddenly announced. "I only came by to check on your progress."

"Thank you, my lord. I hope to have more for you soon."

Voldemort waved off his promise, not overly concerned. He had a feeling his new spy would prove the more valuable source of information. Apparently, the timing for the subterfuge had been perfect. Feeling much calmer, he let a sense of excitement fill his bones. According to Severus, his potion would be completed in just one day and then it only had to sit in a cold, dark place for two more. Then, he could begin the next stage of his plans.

* * *

Severus took a deep breath and closed his eyes, savoring the cool evening breeze on his face. He had exactly thirty-three minutes left before he had to once again stir the potion he was working on: his very own fast-acting poison - rather brilliant if he said so himself. A pity no one would ever see it. The Dark Lord's potion still needed to sit in a warm water bath for another three hours, so there was no rush to attend to it. He still hadn't managed to figure out what it was for, although judging by its ingredients and how they were being mixed together he had some rather nasty suspicions.

Or at least he had half of some rather nasty suspicions. In truth, he had no idea what it was the Dark Lord was hoping to achieve, only that it wouldn't be good. He was also certain that whatever reasons the Circle of the Black Thorne had in helping the Dark Lord, they would be beneficial to neither the world at large, nor the Dark Lord himself.

However, neither one of these certainties meant anything in the grand scheme of things. It was a bit like declaring that milk left outside for two days in the summer stank. Anyone expecting anything else was simply daft.

Severus stopped in the shadow of the willow tree by the side of the Malfoy Lake. It was called such only because it was on the Malfoy grounds, its original name having been lost over the course of the centuries the surrounding lands had belonged to the pureblood family. It ultimately wasn't a large, or important, lake, so no one ever truly cared enough to correct the mistake.

It was, however, very beautiful by moonlight.

Severus took out his wand and cast a spell to repel the insects attempting to eat him alive. Directly afterwards, he cast a subtle charm to determine whether there was anyone else in the area. The spell came back negative. Severus let out the breath he'd been holding; he wasn't sure he would've managed to gather the nerve to come out here a second time.

Without further hesitation, he pocketed his wand and pulled a red and gold-striped ribbon from his pocket and tossed it into the lake. No sooner had it touched the water, then it dissolved in a sparkle of magic. Severus folded his arms over his chest and looked over the lake as he waited.

It took less than ten minutes for Fawkes to arrive. The phoenix glided majestically over the lake to take a perch on a sturdy willow branch. Not even the tree's shadow managed to completely hide the glimmer of his golden feathers.

If anyone had seen it arrive, Severus was a dead man.

He reached up and stroked its feathers. Fawkes crooned at the caress, making Severus sigh sadly. He knew the creature pined for its master – he wondered if it even realized it was being caressed by the man, who killed him.

Severus mentally shook himself out of his thoughts and took his hand away, reaching instead into the depths of his robes for the hidden pocket he'd sewn in himself years ago. He took out a tightly-warded, shrunken package and a small scroll. Fawkes immediately held out a leg for him to attach both items to.

"Please take this to Remus Lupin," Severus said as he tied the scroll in place.

Fawkes cocked his head to the side, as though confused.

"Hogwarts is probably being watched," Severus explained, feeling a bit silly even as he did so. "And Lupin was always the most reasonable and least emotional of the lot. If anyone can be counted on to let his natural curiosity guide him to read everything before burning it, it'll be him. He can also be counted on to take this directly to Minerva instead of Moody."

Fawkes nodded, apparently satisfied with the explanation. He chirped solemnly. Severus took a step backwards and the phoenix took off silently into the night.

Severus watched him until he was out of sight and then turned to head back to his mission and his poison.

* * *

Well that's it for now! Just in case anyone hasn't noticed yet, at this point in the story the chapters are progressing one day at a time. This should make the timeline a bit easier to follow, since at this point a lot more is happening each day (actually, I've been doing this for a few chapters now), unlike in the beginning when things were moving along a bit slower. 'Till next time!

Please review!


	25. Chapter 24

****Yep, so apparently this summer has been really good for my muse. I'm really looking forward to seeing what you all think of this one too; a lot happens in this one. Thanks to everyone, who reviewed the last chapter and to **Biblioeros** for betaing this one! I promise no characters have mysteriously come to life in this chapter (to anyone, who missed the original version of the last chapter, Bellatrix Lestrange managed to sneak her way in despite having been killed many, many chapters back by Azazella... oops).

**Disclaimer**: I do not own anything in either the Buffy fandom or the Harry Potter fandom. The plot, the prophecy, a few random characters and an overactive imagination are all I own.

* * *

**The Prophecy of the Four**

**Chapter 24 -** Allies Old and New

Remus was wide awake, sitting up in bed with the covers thrown off and one hand on the nightstand grabbing his wand before he even knew what was going on. He swung his legs around over the edge of the bed and then paused to take stock and figure out what, exactly, had woken him. A few moments passed and then his question was answered with several loud taps at his window. Looking to the window, he couldn't help but notice the lack of light coming through the cracks in the curtains and groaned.

He raised his wand to unlatch the window and stopped. He blinked. Suddenly, he was very glad he wasn't actually under attack, because this wand he was holding was actually a hairbrush.

The tapping came again.

"Yes, yes, I'm coming!" he called out.

Remus replaced the hairbrush and picked up his real wand. With a quick flick, the curtains were drawn and he could finally see his _very_ early morning visitor. His eyes widened, jaw almost dropping in astonishment. In the next moment, he was up and unlatching the window.

"Fawkes," Remus breathed as the magnificent phoenix stepped over the window sill.

No one had seen Albus Dumbledore's familiar since the man's funeral. It was generally thought to have gone to morn deep within the Forbidden Forest – they hadn't expected to ever see it again. That Fawkes was here now...

Fawkes trilled impatiently and brought its head down to nudge at its foot. Remus suddenly noticed there was a parcel attached to its leg with a red ribbon. With a start, he jumped over to the phoenix and knelt down to relieve it of its burden.

"Sorry, Fawkes," he said. "I guess I'm not entirely awake yet."

Carefully, he took the bundle, feeling it out in an attempt to figure out what was inside. The only person, who could've possibly arranged for whatever this was to be delivered was Albus. Remus took a deep breath and closed his eyes as a fresh wave of grief threatened to overwhelm him. Even from beyond the grave, Albus was still helping them, was still fighting by their side.

A sad trilling song filled the sudden space around him, brushing against his bruised soul. Few things felt as purely magical as a phoenix's song. It didn't continue long, but when it ended and Remus opened his eyes, he felt calmer. He smiled at Fawkes, noticing how the bird's feathers glowed even in the darkness of the night, as though it was reflecting the distant light of the stars.

"Thank you, my friend," Remus whispered.

Fawkes nodded before backing out through the window. Remus stood and watched as Fawkes sailed off into the distance. He sighed and looked down at the package in his hand. It was wrapped in plain, brown paper and tied with an ordinary, brown string. Nothing betrayed its origins in the slightest. He felt around it with his hands, trying to figure out what could possibly be inside. He thought it felt like a lot of paper.

Notes! Remus grinned. Albus had sent him his research notes! Or something to that effect. Being woken up before dawn suddenly didn't seem like quite such a horrible thing.

Not even bothering to throw on a robe (it was too warm for one anyway), he all but ran out of the bedroom, absently lighting candles on his way down to the kitchen. There he placed the package on the table, before putting the kettle on. He had to force his hand to be steady as he tapped the top of the string with his wand to unwrap it.

Nothing happened.

Remus frowned. He tapped his wand on the knot again with the same result. A slight pause and then Remus cast an exploratory spell. He groaned at the results, feeling a bit foolish for assuming Albus would make it that easy for someone to get at the bundle's contents. The package was further wrapped in a protective charm. He recognized it easily enough, though it wasn't the most commonplace one used. Thankfully, it was simple enough to unwrap. It simply required the receiver to tap the package on the place where the sender placed their mark and utter the password.

So, simple enough provided one knew the password used.

The kettle began to whistle and Remus got up to make himself some tea. As he waited for it to steep, he picked up the package again and turned it over. Sure enough, one of the corners on the underside contained a small sketch of a deer. Remus placed it back onto the table and tapped his wand on the seal.

"Lemon drops," he said.

Nothing happened. He frowned. Moments later, his frown lightened as he realized that would've been much too simple. Albus Dumbledore was famous for his lemon drops and candy-themed passwords; any death eater, and especially Thomas Riddle, would know that. It then occurred to him that a deer was a rather random mark to put on the package, which meant it was probably a clue to the password.

"Bloody hell, I'm slow this morning," he said under his breath before tapping the mark again. "Prongs."

Again, nothing happened.

Tap. "James." Nothing.

Tap. "James Potter." Still nothing.

The timer bell rang. Remus sighed and went to prepare his tea. He had a feeling he was going to need it, because, apparently, this was going to take a while.

* * *

Azazella ignored the half-breeds scurrying in the darkness amidst the graves. She'd easily dispatched the two that had been foolish enough to think her an easy meal, before assuming her true form. Since then they'd been keeping their distance.

Her true, demonic form was once again becoming natural for her, yet sometimes she still forgot herself and didn't notice the stifling encasement of her shell – she had spent so much time, so many centuries hidden behind the facade of a human that the freedom of movement felt foreign to her. Relearning her own body, her powers and herself took time, but she was progressing. The world around her had changed since she'd last felt it in her true form, so that too she needed to learn anew.

She walked past rows of grave markers, standing solemn and cold within the protective shadows of surrounding trees, symbols of grief both timeless and yet forgotten by all but the undergrowth enveloping them. In places, it seemed like humans had attempted to tame back the forest and rescue the stone homages from its grasp, but the forest barely seemed to have noticed.

Her footfalls were silent upon the well-worn paths and somewhere, from the back of her mind, a voice whispered a name for the place she was searching in: Highgate. A glimpse out of the corner of her eyes of an angel laying peacefully asleep atop a stone slab brought forth an image of a bright, sunny day with a gentle wind and a graveyard which was much less overgrown. And much emptier.

Azazella banished the image from her mind. If she'd been here before, it didn't matter now. She'd lived many, many lives, having forgotten herself each time and though her demon self suppressed those mirad human identities each time it resurfaced, their accumulated memories remained within the confines of her shell. Or perhaps it was one identity changed throughout the years by period and circumstances. She'd never cared enough to examine it closely.

None of it mattered.

Just then a soft wind blew at her from the east and she paused. There. She could feel it more clearly now, the presence she'd been following. Which meant she was being led to it. Curious, she wondered why now, after two days of searching, she was being allowed into its presence. She turned east, moving swiftly through the trees and tombs.

A fox yelped, startled as she silently crossed its path. She noted with satisfaction that the vampires had moved even further towards the edges of the graveyard. Good. She didn't care for an audience.

Without her demon sense, it would've been much more difficult to find the object of her search. Sitting atop a large, stone piano, she was as still as the graveyard statues around her and wearing nothing but a tattered white dress and some large, silver and bronze jewelry. Fine strands of long, tangled blonde hair that swayed gently with the wind were the only glimpses of movement. If Azazella concentrated, she could see faint outlines of light blue tattoos running down her bare arms, but other than recognizing some sort of geometric design, she couldn't make them out.

"Mad One," Azazella eventually broke the stillness. "What you foresaw is coming to pass and yet you still have not joined with us."

"It is too soon," a soft voice whispered on the breeze, one which would've sounded feminine and pleasant if not for the unmistakable, dark undertones. "The Dragon still sleeps. Soon, the Circle will step onto the path towards the end and move with their biggest pawn."

"If the Circle is almost ready to move, then we could use your wisdom more than ever."

Phythia threw her head back and laughed. In a flurry of sudden movement, she swung her legs up and twisted her torso, before sliding down the piano's cover and landed on her bare feet. She leaned back against the stone piano.

"Wisdom you call it; many called it madness."

Azazella frowned. Millenia of experience had not made the prophet easier to understand. She remained silent, waiting for Phythia to continue.

"I see farther than others, that is true," she eventually said, her voice quiet, subdued and thoughtful. "But I see only the forest, not the trees. I see the dark veil the Circle has spun to prevent the Powers from reaching their Champions and can that feel the Powers will bring light despite, but I do not know where this light shall shine." She giggled. "The Slayer must lead and not follow. And only the Dragon can find the Crown."

She paused and looked up at the first rays of dawn, seemingly mesmerized as bright colours painted the sky. After a long while she returned her gaze to Azazella. Her eyes were no longer human, but glowed with white light as her body changed. Light blonde hair bleached into nearly white with bright blue roots and delicate skin turned tougher, though still as smooth and its paleness turned into a pure white, like marble. The faint outlines along her bare arms filled out and the tattoos, now bright blue, were visible as the glyphs – old symbols of power - Azazella half-recognized. Her tattered, white dress was gone and in its stead Phythia was wearing a simple, slim floor-length dress of the same organic leather-like armor she herself wore, except it was made of a two-toned blue. Only the jewelry she'd been wearing remained the same.

This time, when Phythia spoke, her soft, melodic voice reverberated with power. It filled the air around them, flowing into the earth itself in a way Azazella's own power couldn't.

"I will not join the Three until the Dragon has found her sword and her steed has found its master. Power from the lake will make her awake and then, I will appear."

The statement felt final and Azazella knew she wouldn't get any more out of her. She inclined her head in acceptance. Though not a warrior, Phythia's position and powers had always been respected by all.

Suddenly, Azazella heard a whisper from the distance. She closed her eyes and listened. Her master was calling her. She looked back to the prophet. Phythia was still, radiating power in a direct contrast to her human appearance.

"Go, my kin," she said. "We shall not meet again before the foretold time."

Azazella nodded.

"I understand," she said. "Then, 'till we meet again."

A wind blew a scent of lilac into the cemetery and with it a flash of a memory of an open coach ride along a country path lined with lilac trees. When Azazella blinked the memory away, Phythia was gone with not even a whisper of her power remaining.

It was hardly surprising. Azazella turned towards the origin of her master's call and concentrated. Dark flames surrounded her and carried her through the thin layer between dimensions.

She rematerialized in the middle of a large room full of books with a large table directly in front of her. Several of the chairs around the table were occupied by humans. The vampire, Spike was there as well. She could feel Illyria nearby, though she wasn't present in the room. It was obviously a library, one that smelled of old texts and residual magic. And coffee mixed with tea and sugary pastry.

Ignoring the other humans, she turned to her master.

"Lady Dawn," she said in greeting. "You called for me."

The Lady of Dagon smiled at her.

"Hi Azazella, thanks for coming," she said. "I was wondering if you could do me a favour."

Azazella nodded. Dawn handed her a sealed envelope.

"Could you take this to Professor McGonagall?"

Azazella took the envelope with a slightly raised eyebrow.

"We think we've more or less decided how we're going to play this," her master explained. "Now we have to talk to the Order of the Phoenix. 'Cause I don't think we have a whole lot of time."

"No, we do not," Azazella confirmed. "I have just spoken with the Prophet. She will not join us until the Dragon has awoken, but that should not take much longer. The Circle will move soon."

There was a sharp intake of breath and Azazella glanced at a petite blonde standing a few steps behind the Lady Dawn.

"Buffy?" Lady Dawn asked.

"Uh," the blonde said with a weak smile. "So, there might be a few things on our side we hadn't mentioned yet."

"The prophecy does mention a dragon..." the young wizard, Draco, said from his seat at the table.

"Yeah, I know, but there's more to it than that..."

Azazella looked a bit closer at the blonde. Despite the fatigue in her eyes, her body contained a strength obvious to anyone, who knew how to look for such things. She was a warrior and a careful intake of breath revealed her scent to contain many of the same elements her master's did. So, this was the Lady of Dagon's designated protector: her sister. The Slayer.

"Perhaps we should go into that after we've heard back from the wizards," a soft-spoken male voice said from the head of the table.

Lady Dawn nodded.

"Okay then, can you do this?" she then asked Azazella. "Oh, and please wait for her reply, if she's able to give it right away. If she has to think about it or talk it over with someone else, then come back here and she can send a messenger owl or something." She then motioned to the rest of the room's occupants. "I'll do introductions when you get back."

Azazella nodded and teleported away, into the entrance hall of Hogwarts Castle.

As it turned out, waking the school's headmistress by appearing at her bedside in a burst of dark flames was quite fun. The woman's startled scream followed by unco-ordinated fumblings for her wand, which resulted in the shattering of a glass of water, were amusing.

* * *

The sun was fully risen and Remus was on his third cup of tea when he finally figured it out.

In the very same breath, he decided he was never, ever, going to tell anyone just how long it had taken him to realize the deer was a doe and therefore _female_ and to then realize wizards used animal representations for more than just animagus forms. Such as patronus charms. And Lily's patronus had been one of the best he'd ever seen: crisp, clear and bright.

He tapped the mark.

"Lily," he said. Nothing happened, so he tried again. "Lily Potter."

Once again, the package sat unchanged. Remus groaned, but quickly pulled himself together. Of course, whatever was inside this package was clearly extremely important, so the password couldn't be the obvious choice.

"Lily Evans," he whispered.

He whopped with joy when the string around the package snapped and the paper began to slowly unravel until it was laid out flat underneath its contents, which included a leather-bound notebook, three scrolls and topped with a single, brown envelop sealed with red wax and a crest Remus didn't recognize.

The envelop looked like the proper place to start, so Remus picked it up and broke the wax seal. He unfolded the parchment inside and froze. The first thing he realized what that this wasn't written in Albus' handwriting. The second, that he did recognize it nonetheless. He skipped to the signature and froze as it confirmed his suspicions.

His hands now shook from something other than excitement. As he read the letter, his emotions jumped from confusion and anger to outright astonishment.

* * *

A gentle breeze blew across Connor's face, rustling the leaves of the tree he was hiding in. From between the leaves he had a good view of the corner of the small military training outpost he and Spike had staked out the night before. He could hear barked commands from the distance and the sound of synchronized bootfalls as they jogged past the other side of the building he was watching. He could also hear the mechanical whirl of the security camera as it pivoted from side to side on a tall, wooden post about eight feet away from the thick stone wall that surrounded the entire compound. Then he heard a whispered curse from behind him and some uneven scrambling.

He exchanged an amused look with Xander, who looked away from the small binoculars he was holding. He looked back over his shoulder.

"You know, you're kinda useless without your magic," he commented.

"Shut up!" came the hissed reply. "You're the ones, who insisted I come along!"

"Actually, I'm pretty sure it was Dawn's idea, so she's the one you should be blaming," said Xander.

"I don't care. Why exactly is it that we're doing this in broad daylight instead of in the middle of the night like most people who want to break into places? In case you hadn't heard me before, the Notice-Me-Not spell has rather large limitations!"

Connor rolled his eyes.

"'Cause if anyone sees us walking around outside the base during the day will think we're tourist hikers," he said. "At night we'll be suspicious. And before you even ask, no Spike and I couldn't have done this last night, because we won't get a second crack at this and we would've been guessing about what to get, assuming we'd even be able to get inside before someone came to check out the busted security camera."

"Sometimes I really miss how easy everything was in Sunnydale," said Xander whistfully, putting his binoculars away and taking out an iPad.

"Eh, shouldn't be too bad; most of them'll be in the mess having lunch and the patrols don't actually go into this corner, just look into it."

This corner of the compound almost felt like it was designed for them. The stone walls around the compound were just over eight feet tall and sounded like they were re-enforced with concrete on the inside – aestetic and durable. To their left sat a large garage that seemed to house the entire base's jeep and truck collection along with a single, token tank. Thanks to its size, it obscured this particular corner from direct view of the majority of the compound. Which included the two small buildings about fifteen feet away from the wall beside Connor. The first one was a shed of some sort (Spike said he'd caught glimspses of gasmasks, ropes and axes) and attached to it, was a sturdier, squat building with an electronic lock containing both a keypad and a cardswipe.

How the military had managed to not notice the giant tree growing so close to their wall was a mystery to Connor, but it worked in their favour, so he wasn't about to argue.

Tree aside though, anyone else would've likely had a hard time pulling off what they were about to attempt anyway. Especially during the day. It had taken the combined planning efforts of Spike, Xander, Willow and himself to come up with a plan that felt like it could work. Then Dawn had added the icing in the form of Draco and his convienently unregistered wand (Connor predicted 'registered wand' jokes would never get old by the gleam in Faith's eyes).

He looked down at his watch. Xander's phone vibrated right on time. The one-eyed man reached up to adjust the bluetooth he was wearing and picked up.

"Hey, it's Xander... yup, we're all set and ready to go. Yup I've got internet... Aaand now I see you too. Awesome, we're going in."

Connor looked behind him to where Draco was crouching on a branch attempting to not look utterly terrified. He felt a bit sorry for the boy; this was so completely outside his previous experiences it was ridiculous. Then again, Connor hadn't ever done anything like this either, but at least he had the strength and skills to know he could get himself out if things went dragon-shaped. He met Draco's eyes and attempted to convey some form of 'it'll be alright' sentiment.

He must've been vaguely successful, because Draco simply gulped and nodded. Connor then turned to the side and met Xander's eyes. He looked back to the compound and took a medium-sized crystal out of his pocket. A quick glance at his watch told him it was 12:23pm exactly.

" Involvere," he said and then threw the crystal gently over the fence into the military compound. It flashed brightly when it hit the ground. "Okay guys, thanks to Willow's power boost, that gives us about 12 minutes from right now."

Xander was the first one to slip out of the tree and onto the top of the stone wall before jumping down. He immediately ran for the back door of the shed they'd been watching. Connor helped Draco climb over and then leaped out of the tree and over the fence, landing in complete silence.

They then hurried over to where Xander had just finished hooking up a few wires from the locking mechanism on the door to his iPad.

"Okay, I'm connected," he was saying into the bluetooth. "Giving you remote access...now."

The sound of boots walking on gravel brought Connor's attention in the direction of the garage. Beside him, he could feel Draco tense and take out his wand. Sure enough, a minute later, a lone sentry walked past the garage and up to the shed. Just as he and Spike had observed the night before, this day-time guard took one, sweeping look that encompassed the entire corner, but didn't step any further than the edge of the shed.

He walked away and all three of them breathed quiet sighs of relief. Draco looked thoughtfully at the softly-pulsing crystal.

"You know, I really wish I'd had one of those at Hogwarts," he said quietly.

"Yeah, they're neat," Connor agreed. "My dad used one to plan an attack against the L.A. Circle of the Black Thorne. He was pretending to be slipping to the dark side, so he needed the people looking in to think he was arguing with his friends instead of planning and explaining. Sad that it only lasts for such a short time."

Draco nodded.

"Can it be used more than once?" he asked.

"Not without recharging it."

A beep followed by a mechanical click sounded behind them.

"Alright!" Xander cheered under his breath, his face a wide grin. "You're awesome, Wolfman! Thanks!"

Quickly, he unplugged the wires, as Connor to slipped in next to him. Connor wasted no time in pulling a second crystal out of his pocket, opening the door a crack and then tossing it in after another whispered 'involvere'. There was a flash of light and Connor opened the door fully and walked into the building, flicking the light on as he entered.

Draco followed him in, looking around curiously as his eyes adjusted to the dim lighting inside. He wasn't sure what he'd expected a muggle weapon's storage to look like, but what he saw was rather disappointing. The room itself was no larger than the potion's classroom at Hogwarts and it was lined with oddly-shaped, black boxes (he did notice handles on the sides of most of them).

"Okay, Xander, it's your show now," said Connor, shoving his hands into his pockets as he rocked backwards on his heels.

"Yeah, and I'd still love to know when exactly I became the resident weapon's expert," said Xander with a sigh. Nonetheless, he walked over to the first stack of boxes and undid the latches on it.

"At the point in which the rest of us have absolutely zero knowledge of guns and stuff, which makes you and your left-over know-how an expert."

"You realize Buffy's actually shot a weapon more often than I have, right?"

"Seriously? I thought she hated guns."

"She does. It was a rocket launcher. Both times."

There was a short, stunned silence.

"Didn't occur to her to start with something smaller and work her way up?"

"Well, we kinda needed to kill something big and powerful and ordinary guns don't work on most demons." Another latch opened and closed. "Hey, don't suppose you guys could look around and see if there are any grenades? Smaller boxes, little round things that fit in your palm. I'm thinking a box or two of those might come in handy."

Draco blinked, realizing the explanation must've been for his benefit. He looked around for some smaller boxes and whispered a spell to open one. Inside was a small, black device he recognized as a handgun – Xander had shown him a few pictures of muggle weapons so that he'd know what he was looking at. He closed the box and moved on.

The only sound in the room was the clacking of latches being undone and then redone when their contents were deemed unsuitable.

"Okay, so speaking of rocket launchers..." Connor suddenly said.

Xander chuckled.

"Yeah, okay, not a bad plan," he said. "That wizard Faith saved did say something about giants. Having a rocket launcher might not be a bad plan. Just make sure you get ammo too."

"Right." There was some shuffling. "Hey, Draco, wanna bring your miniturization ray down here?"

"My what?" Draco asked, wondering whether all muggles were this incomprehensible even as he closed the box he'd been peeking into and went over to where Connor was standing.

"You know, to shrink this down to pocket size. It's why you're here."

Draco rolled his eyes. He arrived at Connor's side in time to see the boy had made a small stack of three boxes: one large one on the bottom that was about the size of the trunk Draco took to Hogwarts and two much smaller ones. Connor waved a hand over them and motioned Draco to get on with it.

Draco pointed his wand at them and whispered the spell. Connor raised an eyebrow as the boxes gradually got smaller and smaller until the smaller boxes were about the size of matchboxes.

"Cool," said Conner. He reached down and grabbed the boxes, slipping them into the pocket of his windbreaker, which he then zipped up.

"Hey, eureka, guys!" Xander called out. "Found what we were looking for."

Connor looked at his watch.

"We've got, like four minutes left of the spell in here and two outside," he said. "Draco, you go shrink. I'll see if I can't find those grenades before time's up."

Draco nodded and hurried off to where Xander waited. The one-eyed man looked up when he approached and put a gloved hand on top of one of the stacks. They were big boxes again.

"Okay, these are them," he said. "I think the three boxes on this stack oughta be enough."

Draco nodded and shrunk them quickly. Xander then placed them into the pack he'd been carrying on his back and closed it with a zipper. Suddenly, Connor was by their side carrying three more boxes, which were larger than the smaller ones Draco had shrunk earlier, but still about half the size of the bigger ones.

"Grenades," was all he said, before placing them on the ground.

Draco shrunk them too and Xander placed them gently into his pack. He zipped it shut and then hefted it carefully onto his back.

"You know, I can't help but wonder what would happen if they went off while shrunk," he said. "I mean, would the resulting explosion be proportionate to their size, or would the explosion revert to like, real-time equivalent?"

Connor raised his eyebrows.

"Let's not find out," he said.

Xander nodded. "Good plan."

Connor glanced at his watch. They were cutting it really, really close. Of course, on the other hand, he was a bit impressed they'd even managed to be done in the 12 minute time-frame they'd had. And that was assuming the crystal really had that long. He opened the door slightly and peeked out. The crystal was still pulsing. Good.

He turned back to the other two, who were now standing just behind him and watching him expectantly.

"Okay, so the crystal's still working, but I don't think we have a lot of time left on it," he said. "I'm going to run to the security camera and jam it. Then you two run and get over that fence. Don't worry about me, I'll be behind you. If I don't meet up with you on-route, then wait at the car."

Xander and Draco nodded. Draco's face looked pale, but determined as he gripped his wand. He'd told them before that preforming more powerful magic than a few low-level charms would put him at risk of being brought to the attention of the Ministry of Magic, but if it came to potential capture by the military, they'd told him to simply do what he had to do to get out.

Connor glanced out again. Yup, still working. He slipped out of the building and ran towards the security camera. Then he heard footsteps. He froze, standing just underneath the camera and looked to where he knew the patrol would be passing by. And prayed that it was just the patrol and not someone actually coming to get something out of the shed. The spell from the crystal only worked as long the observers were outside the bubble it created.

The soldier came into view and Connor let out a soft, relieved sigh when he saw it really was just the patrol. He glanced to the crystal. It was still pulsing steadily. He kept it in the corner of his eye as he watched the patrol walk by. He took a quick peek at his watch. They were almost at 13 min, which meant Willow had underestimated how much power she'd added to the original charm.

The patrolling soldier looked into the back area of the shed, but saw nothing out of the ordinary. He looked away and continued on. Connor relaxed. Suddenly, he was aware of a lack of familiar pulsing light in the corner of his eye.

He bit down on a curse as he realized the crystal had died. He slunk back, into the shadow behind the post the camera was attacked to and watched the soldier as he marched on, praying he didn't turn around.

He didn't and Connor allowed himself to relax a fraction once he passed out of sight. Then he turned his attention to the mechanical whirr of the security camera. He looked up and tensed his muscles, waiting as it continued its cycle.

As soon as it was facing away from the smaller buildings, Connor pounced, scrambling up the post and reaching the camera in seconds. He grabbed it and held on, keeping it facing towards the garage. He then looked to the weapons storage bunker and saw Xander quickly exiting it with Draco. Xander shut the door behind him and Connor heard it lock automatically.

They ran to the compound wall, Xander pausing only to pick the dead crystal off the ground and slipping it into his pocket. At the wall, Xander offered Draco a leg-up, which the wizard declined. Connor raised an eyebrow, wondering just how Draco planned to get over the wall. However, Draco simply waved his wand and then Xander's jaw dropped slightly as he smoothly floated upwards.

Connor could practically feel the blond wizard's smirk from where he was. He rolled his eyes. The camera twitched insistently in his gloved hand.

Xander scaled the wall, using the more conventional, non-magical method. Connor had to turn his eyes away from them, scanning the bits of the compound he could see and listening for movement. Someone was bound to come check on the stuck camera anytime now.

He glanced to the wall and saw that both Draco and Xander were gone. Good. Connor let go of the camera and jumped back down to the ground, landing softly. He was rather glad for the concrete that wouldn't show any footprints.

He waited for the camera to complete an entire rotation, although it went against every instinct telling him to get the hell out of there. In the distance, he finally heard the bootfalls as someone approached. The camera jerked more than it did before and Connor hopped he hadn't actually broken it.

The bootsteps were getting closer. Then the camera's focus finally reached the wall and then it began to turn the other way. Connor immediately ran to wall, jumping up and then over it before the approaching person turned the corner.

* * *

Professor McGonagall was not in a good mood.

First, she'd been scared out of her wits by a crack-of-dawn wakeup call in the form of a powerful demon, who'd decided the best way to deliver her message was to appear in a rather loud explosion of flames by her bedside. She didn't care who the girl's sister was, if she found out Dawn had instructed the demon to do that, heads would roll... possibly in direction of one of Hagrid's pets. Then she'd been called to the infirmary to help Poppy deal with the purple smoke that had spontaneously started coming out of the Weasley twins' burn marks after they'd gotten bored and started playing with illusion charms. On the upside, the burn marks were now gone, however the infirmary reeked of something between rotted strawberries and burnt manure. At least she'd gotten to yell at the idiotic redheads for it.

The final touch to her day had been when an owl delivered a message telling her that Headmaster Dumbledore's portrait would be another two weeks, which meant she now had to wait two more weeks before she could yell at the old buffoon for leaving her in this mess.

And how did she become the impromptu leader of the Order anyway? Although, she supposed it was only the muggles, Dawn and Buffy (assuming she could call the Slayer a muggle in the first place), who were treating her as such with their message. The rest of the Order tended to defer to Alastor Moody.

Minerva looked across the headmaster's office, where the veteran auror was currently speaking in hushed tones with Arthur Weasley, Kinsey Shaklebolt and Nymphadora Tonks. On the other side of the room, Hagrid and Charlie Weasley were discussing some sort of fascinating dragon. These were all the members she'd managed to pull together on such short notice without arousing suspicion. Except for Remus Lupin, who still hadn't arrived.

Just then the office door opened and all noise ceased. Harry walked through first followed closely by Hermione and then their guests entered, with Ron closing the door behind the group.

Dawn looked refreshed and much less haggard than the last time Minerva had seen her, although she couldn't help but wonder if the emerald green short-sleeved blouse was on purpose. Her sister, Buffy, was wearing a pink cotton summer dress with white polka-dots, which felt like the complete opposite to what Minerva would've expected a Slayer to wear. It emphasized her feminine qualities and made her look much softer and more vulnerable than she had previously in the hospital wing. It was an obvious attempt to make her look less dangerous and either make them underestimate her, or put them at ease. A quick glance to the side at Alastor's frown told her it wasn't working (if anything it seemed to be making the auror even more paranoid).

With them were two other people. The first was a petite redhead, who seemed to be looking around her with the sort of wide-eyed excitement tourists tended to get inside places like Westminster Abby or the Cathedral of Notre Dame. This was obviously the witch, who'd healed Kinsey: Willow Rosenburg. Her guess was confirmed, when Kinsey himself greeted her with a smile.

The last member of the group was a man of about Arthur Weasley's age. He was a respectable-looking man wearing glasses and a brown tweed suit with a calm air about him. He scanned the room once, slowly taking everything and everyone in, before stepping directly up to the headmaster's desk. Minerva stood to greet him.

"Good afternoon, you must be the deputy headmistress, Professor McGonagall," he said in a soft tone of voice that still managed to sound smooth and confident. He stuck out his hand. "My name is Rupert Giles and I'm the Head of the Watcher's Council. It is a pleasure to meet you."

Minerva wasn't sure why it surprised her that he was British. She took his hand and shook it.

"It is a pleasure to meet you as well, Mr. Giles," she said. "I hope we can find an effective way to work together. Preferably without the need for startling people awake at the crack of dawn."

Rupert Giles cast an annoyed glance in the direction of the younger girls, who looked a bit sheepish at the comment.

"Yes, I do apologize for that. With what we do, we tend to keep rather odd hours and some of us sometimes forget that not everyone keeps the same hours we do."

There was a chuckle from the corner of the room. Minerva glared at Charlie Weasley with her best stern teacher look, but it proved to be just as effective as it had when he had been her student.

"How exactly does a message startle someone awake?" he asked with a grin.

"When it's delivered by a demon that can appear anywhere she wants in a column of flames," Dawn said with an answering grin.

Out of the corner of her eyes, Minerva noticed the redhead nudge Buffy and whisper something. Buffy smiled mischievously and nodded. Then the two girls looked at Charlie speculatively. The grin disappeared off the Weasley boy's face when he realized he was being observed by them.

Mr. Giles cleared his throat and all three girls turned their attention back to him. Minerva was impressed.

"Anyway, as I was saying, I do sincerely apologize for waking you this morning," he said.

"Apology accepted, Mr. Giles," Minerva answered. "Although, my original point still stands. If we are to work together, then some means of communication will have to be agreed upon."

"Wills, is there any way we could, like, rig up a magical telephone?" Buffy suddenly asked.

The redhead next to her looked thoughtful for a few moments.

"Hm, there might be a way to charm something to allow communication between two exact places, like a mirror or... oooh, I know!" Willow's eyes suddenly alighted with excitement. "I think I read about an ancient Greek spell that allowed you to communicate through standing water, sort of like a scrying bowl, if you dropped a specific charmed object in. I mean, both people had to have their charmed objects dropped into standing water at the same time in order for it to work and I think there was a time limit on it, but it sounded like a really neat spell, plus a great way to talk to someone else without anyone being able to track it-"

"I'm sure it won't be necessary to do anything so complicated," Alastor Moody interrupted the girl. "Lending them a portrait will suffice, I'm sure."

"A portrait?" Buffy asked with a frown.

"Oh, you mean one of those talking ones," said Dawn, looking intrigued. "I know Draco said the people in the portraits can move around, but can they really move that far away from their original frame?"

"It requires them to have a second frame, but, yes, they can," said Minerva. "However, perhaps we should leave that discussion for now and concentrate on exactly how you can help us, if at all."

Buffy snorted.

"I think it's a bit late for 'if'," she said, folding her arms over her chest and looking at her with a cool look of disdain. "We've been helping you for months now without either of us realizing it. If not for us, you'd have an army of vampires to deal with. Plus, Spike took out that head wolf guy, Greybeard or something. And then Faith helped your guy and saved the both him and the prime minister."

She raised an eyebrow, daring anyone to contradict her.

"You know, I think we've been involved for much longer than we've realized," Mr. Giles suddenly said. "If Spike's right and the Circle of the Black Thorne is indeed involved, then that would explain the attack on you in the park. We never did figure out who was behind it, after all."

"Woah, hang on: attack?!" Dawn exclaimed, before glaring at her sister. "Why is this the first time I'm hearing about an attack?!"

"Uh, oh, I kinda forgot about that," said Buffy with a wince. "It was just after I'd arrived in London. I was recovering from it when Spike, Connor and Illyria left to look for you, which is why I didn't go with. And, well.. Oh give me a break, a lot's happened since then!"

"You came close to dying, Buffy," Mr. Giles whispered. "They were strong and organized. You said so yourself, if Connor hadn't shown up when he had, you wouldn't have survived."

"What?!"

Dawn's glare intensified. Buffy shot the man an annoyed glare. Then she turned to her sister.

"But I did and I'm here and the demons got their asses kicked," she said softly. She embraced her younger sister. "I'm still here and don't plan on dying anytime soon."

"You'd better not," came the muffled response. "Been there, done that; it wasn't fun."

"I won't."

They broke apart and Buffy smiled up at Dawn, who smiled back, although she still looked a tad upset. Then Buffy turned away and suddenly, she was all business again.

"Giles is right, though, those demons were super-organized and their target was obviously to kill me." Buffy paused. "I'm pretty sure one of them mentioned a master or orders or something, so clearly they were someone else's minions."

"Wait a minute, are you saying you think You-Know-Who has a _demon army_?!" Ron exclaimed with horror.

"No, I don't think so," Dawn answered quickly. "Remember, he had no idea who I was when he had me – and I'll bet he's just kicking himself for that now. I mean, yeah, it's not like he ever came to check out the prisoners himself or anything, but I told Draco my name right away even if he never actually used it. And,okay, so he's a kid and so wouldn't necessarily know enough to recognize the name, but that Snape guy, who showed up to bring him some sort of potion that one time, did notice me. To the point where I know he asked about me, because Draco was confused about why I wasn't reacting to the dementors they had hanging around the castle like everyone else was."

"Yer from the hellmouth, that makes sense," said Alastor.

"What makes you think You-Know-Who has someone working with him?" Tonks asked with a frown.

"Because Phythia said so," said Dawn. "Plus, it makes sense. The prime minister was attacked by demons and not just a few demons, but an organized demon attack force."

"Demons don't generally join with humans," Mr. Giles took up the explanation. "They'd consider it beneath them. Unless they're fyarl demons, of course, and they're being paid for it, but the demons that attacked the prime minister weren't fyarls. The logical conclusion, therefore, is that Voldemort has managed to find himself an ally with demon minions."

"You know, just once, it would be nice to receive some good news at these meetings," said Arthur Weasley dryly.

"I think you're coming to the wrong meetings if you're expecting that," Kinsley commented back.

"Hey, it's not all bad," said Buffy brightly. "If we know what we're up against then we can plan to defeat it, right?"

"Quite right, Miss Summers," said Minerva. She took out her wand and conjured up four chairs. "Now why don't you have a seat and we can discuss it comfortably. Would anyone care for some tea?"

The guests from the Watcher's Council sat down. Minerva had just summoned a tray of tea and another one of biscuits and sandwiches when the door flew open. She glanced up.

"Ah, Mr. Lupin," she said. "I was wondering where you'd gotten to."

"Minerva, I've got something the Order has to see immediately," came the abrupt response.

She looked up and frowned at her former student. There was something wild in his eyes, an excitement that was mixed with incredulity, as though he himself wasn't sure about whatever it was he had. And, sure enough, he was holding something wrapped in plain brown paper. He caught her gaze and held the package up so that everyone could see.

"Early this morning I was woken up by a messenger, who brought me this," he said. He paused. "It was Fawkes."

"Fawkes?!" Alastor Moody exclaimed and then, displaying an agility a man missing both an eye and a leg shouldn't be capable of, he leaped to his feet and grabbed Remus by the upper arm. "Think, man, are you sure it was Fawkes?"

Remus blinked at him in confusion.

"Er, it was a phoenix," he said. "And it certainly looked like the one that was always in this office whenever my friends and I got dragged into it because of some prank or other gone wrong."

"Is it a message from Professor Dumbledore then?" Hermione Granger asked.

Remus' expression darkened.

"No," he said. "Well, I suppose Fawkes himself was a message of sorts, but it wasn't Albus that sent this. Quite the opposite, in fact."

He shook off Alastor's arm and then placed the package onto the desk. Without another word he proceeded to unwrap the package and then laid out its contents.

"Okay, so just to clarify, this Dumbledore guy's the old man, who used to be in charge around here, right?" Buffy broke the silence by asking. "The guy Draco was supposed to kill and then didn't?"

"Yes, he is the former headmaster of this school as well as the former head of the Order of the Phoenix," Minerva answered her.

"Right, and this Fawkes was his, uh, pet phoenix..." Buffy tapered off with a thoughtful frown.

"Yes, although a phoenix is never a mere pet, more like a familiar," said Remus. Then he smiled. "Sorry, I didn't see you there. Hello Dawn, Buffy."

"Heya Remus!" said Dawn with a wide smile. She motioned to the other two Remus didn't know. "This is Giles, the head of the Watcher's Council and that's Willow, witch extraordinaire."

Remus held out a hand to first to Mr. Giles and then to Willow. Willow gasped as soon as their hands touched. Her eyes lit up and she jumped to her feet, looking deeply into his eyes.

"Goddess, you're a werewolf!" she said. Remus blinked at her and stepped backwards, away from the excited American – most people didn't react to his condition with excitement. Still holding his hand, she turned to her friends. "Buffy, he's a werewolf!"

"I know, Wills," the blonde said with fond amusement. "But you might want to give him his hand back, I think you're freaking him out."

"Oh, uh, sorry." The redhead blushed and sheepishly let go of him as she stepped out of his personal space. "It's been a while since I've met any werewolves."

"I, uh, see."

Dawn giggled.

"Remember Oz, the werewolf I told you about?" she said. Remus nodded. "She and Oz dated through most of high school until he left to learn to control his wolf and she discovered she was gay."

"Oh." Remus frowned. "Wait, didn't you say he didn't find out he was a werewolf until high school?"

"Yep, he'd only just figured it out when we started going out," said Willow. "Let me tell you, it was pretty much the only explanation I'd accept and still date him afterwords as to why he kept chains in his van."

That startled a laugh out of Remus.

"Yes, I can't imagine many explanations that would," he said.

"Hey! I keep chains in my car!" Buffy protested with a pout. A room-full of incredulous stares followed her protest. "Well, not _always_, but, you know, I hunt things that break ropes."

"Buffy, you hunt things that break chains," said Giles as he cleaned his glasses. "However, we are getting far off-track. I believe the purpose of this meeting was to establish a working relationship between our groups so that we may join together to fight against a common enemy, not debate what you do or do not keep in your car."

Professor McGonagall's gasp stopped whatever comment Buffy was about to make in her defense. Remus turned to see the witch had opened the letter that had arrived with the package. Her eyes were wide with disbelief and anger – probably a similar expression to what Remus himself had been sporting several hours earlier.

"Remus," she said, at a loss for words as she looked up at him. "This, if it's true, then..."

Remus nodded sadly. He'd been trying very hard not to think about what he'd been reading on an emotional level. He hadn't succeeded. Harry stepped out, to beside the desk.

"What is it?" he demanded. "Who's it from?"

"What is it?" Remus chuckled. "Quite possibly a detailed description of You-Know-Who's grand plan, if we're clever enough to figure out what all the notes mean. As for from whom..." He paused and took a deep breath, his voice soft when he finally spoke. "Severus, it's from Severus Snape."

"What?!" Tonks exclaimed from the corner of the room she'd been standing in next to Arthur, Kinsley and Alastor. The three men echoed her sentiment. Loudly.

"I knew it!"

Remus looked at Dawn in surprise. The girl was smiling smugly. He frowned.

"Knew what exactly?" he asked her.

"Is this the Snape guy Dawn met in the dungeons?" Willow asked.

"Yeah, it is," Dawn answered. "You shoulda seen the guy: he was all dressed in black with long, dark hair badly in need of some serious product and his face was so pale he could pass as a vampire and possibly crack if he tried to smile. And then he had this deep voice like he was getting ready to lure you out into the woods in order to boil you alive."

"That's very, um, descriptive," said Remus.

"Sounds like Snape though," he heard Ron Weasley mumble.

"So, like, total evil villain cliché?" Buffy asked.

"Yup, totally trying too hard," Dawn answered her. She turned to the rest of the room. "Bad guys usually look all nice and smiley and clean-cut, so someone, who's trying that hard to look evil is obviously a good guy."

She beamed at the rest of the room. Remus cleared his throat.

"Um, not to burst the bubble on your wonderful theory there," he said. "But I've know Severus since we were children; he's always looked like that."

Dawn's face fell. "Oh."

"How do we know it's not a trap?" Alastor said, bringing them back to the matter at hand.

"Well, Fawkes was t' messenger," Hagrid spoke up for the first time. "Them phoenixes are loyal to th' last. 'e wouldn'ta have gone t' Snape if Professor Dumbledore 'adn't asked 'im to."

"According to the letter he wrote, Albus was already dying from a curse," said Minerva, holding up the letter she'd been reading. Remus noticed Harry stiffen and exchange looks with his friends. "Apparently, as his final wish, he ordered Severus to kill him and use his death to firmly entrench himself as Voldemort's most loyal servant in the hopes that one day, he'd be able to gain information capable of tipping the scales."

She placed the letter carefully down and then gestured to the rest of the package's contents.

"He thinks this might be it."

There was a beat of silence.

"Wow, that's hardcore," said Willow with wide eyes. Buffy turned to her.

"So, when we meet him, he going to introduce himself as Snape, Severus Snape?" she asked.

"Oh god, Buffy, were you even listening to my description of him?" Dawn asked with a groan. "'Cause now you've got me picturing him with huge black Raybans and driving a bright silver sportscar with a scantily-clan woman in the passenger's seat and I'm tellin' you it just ain't working!"

Harry echoed her earlier groan.

"Dawn, stop, please stop!" he cried, a look of disgust crossing his face. "Now I'm picturing it too!"

"I don't get it," Ron muttered to Hermione, who giggled.

"If the three of you could get serious for a moment," Alastor Moody growled at them in annoyance. "This is no time to be fooling around!"

"I'm afraid it's a bit of a lost cause," Giles said with a sigh. "I've been trying for years."

"I can totally get serious when I want to be!" Buffy protested. "When something needs slicin' and dicin' I, like, seriously slice and dice it." She grinned. "And then I go to the mall."

Dawn shrugged.

"Well the world's still here, so she must be doing something right," she said.

"Ehem, anyway," said Remus with an amused smile. He turned to Minerva. "Alastor's got a point, there is still absolutely no concrete proof that this whole thing isn't an elaborate trap. Albus could've instructed Fawkes to listen to Severus or deliver his messages or something to that effect before Severus killed him-"

"But magical creatures, especially familiars like phoenixes can always recognize their master's killers," Charlie protested.

Remus nodded in acknowledgment.

"Yes, there is that. There's also the fact that I've spent the morning going over the information he sent over and can't for the life of me figure out what it's all supposed to mean."

"You're thinking that if it was a truly a trap, then the clues would be easier to figure out," said Giles.

"Although, Severus was a very clever man," Minerva interjected. "He claims he's sending it all to us because he couldn't figure it out, but believes time is running out. If it were too easy for us to figure out, then it would be all the more obvious trap."

"True," Remus admitted. He wasn't sure himself whether he wanted his old schoolmate to be a murderous, irredeemable traitor or a hero and Dumbledore's most loyal spy. "I'm a bit confused about the postscript, though."

Minerva frowned.

"Yes, it is a bit odd," she agreed, looking down and then reading it aloud. "P.S. For what it's worth, Queen C says 'hi'. I can't even begin to fathom what that could possibly mean."

"It certainly doesn't mean anything to me," said Alastor with a shake of his head.

"It's not meant for you," said a soft voice.

They all turned in surprise to a stunned-looking Buffy Summers. She said nothing else, staring thoughtfully at the papers on Minerva's desk, as though trying to remember something. Beside her, Willow cast her friend a confused look.

"Queen C is a nickname for this girl we knew in high school," Willow said after it became obvious, Buffy wasn't going to explain her statement. "Her name was Cordelia Chase and she was rich, beautiful and really stuck-up - had her own band of groupies and everything. Xander, one of our other friends, once called her Queen C and the name sort of stuck. Stuff happened and she eventually became a friend of ours and started helping us out. After high school she moved to L.A. and continued to fight the good fight along side Angel, uh, Connor's father. Long story, but she eventually became a powerful seer, who channeled visions direct from Powers That Be."

She paused, took a shaky breath and smiled sadly.

"Cordelia died over a year ago after being in a coma for months."

"Which means the only way Snape could've possibly known about her is if she came to him a dream or a vision or something," Dawn added. "And if he's getting dream-visits from a messenger of the Powers That Be, then that makes him one of the good guys for sure."

"Well, that certainly changes things considerably," said Kinsley after a long pause of silence.

"I met her!" Buffy suddenly exclaimed, startling Willow when she grabbed her hands urgently. "In that dream, where I met Sybil: I was looking at some scarves and then Cordy was there and we talked and she said she had to go meet someone and..." Buffy frowned. "Remember the phoenix. I was standing inside a huge hall with long tables and lots of chairs around them, like a really big cafeteria, only I couldn't see any canteen part and there were shields hanging on the walls. An owl flew in and it gave me a message that said 'Remember the phoenix'."

"The messenger in Faith's dream mentioned phoenixes as well," said Giles thoughtfully. "I remember now she asked me afterwords what sort of bird a phoenix was."

"That's a lot of phoenixes," said Dawn.

"Too many for coincidence," Willow agreed.

"Well, we _are _called the Order of the Phoenix," said Arthur.

"Yeah, but I had an owl bring me a _message_ about one," Buffy pointed out. "That is more than a coincidence."

Giles cleared his throat.

"Professor McGonagall," he said. "I don't suppose we could take a look at what this Severus Snape has sent."

"Be my guest, Mr. Giles," she said.

Giles stood and gathered up the notebook and scrolls before resuming his seat, Willow switching places with Buffy so that she could sit next to him and look over his shoulder while he leafed through the notebook. Dawn grabbed the scrolls to look over on her own. They barely looked up when the door burst open, admitting an out-of-breath Bill Weasley.

"Sorry I'm late," he said. "Couldn't get away from work until now." He then turned to Alastor Moody. "Moody, I'm assuming you haven't heard. There's a general alert out to all aurors. Apparently, the McNairs have been spotted in Bath."

Tonks cursed.

"Dammit, that city's full of tourists this time o' year," Moody growled. "Kinsley, you're still not completely healed so you stay put. Tonks an' I'll manage."

Kinsley nodded and watched as his fellow aurors left.

"Alastor, do you think you'll need backup?" Arthur called out as the man was about to step through the door.

Alastor stopped for a few moments and thought about it. Then he shook his head.

"No, should be alright without the order," he said. "I'll let you know if I need you."

"Tonks!" Remus called out to his girlfriend. He smiled at her when she turned around to look at him. "Be careful."

Tonks blinked and then smiled back.

"I will, promise," she said.

The door closed after them and Bill Weasley stood uncertainly in the centre of the room.

"So, what have I missed?" he asked.

While the others filled him in, Giles, Willow and Dawn continued to pour over the materials Severus Snape had sent, occasionally whispering amongst each other. Buffy didn't appear to be paying attention to them, watching the new arrival and the other wizards instead. However, every once in a while, she'd turn to Willow and quietly ask a question, proving that she was listening to them with at least half an ear.

Remus couldn't quite make out what they were saying, so he stopped trying, surreptitiously looking over at them every so often to see how they were making out. Then he noticed Buffy paying more and more attention to the other three and wondered if that meant they were actually getting somewhere. When their expressions turned into almost identical looks of incredulous horror, he knew they'd figured it out.

"Is it really that bad?" he finally found the courage to ask.

"I-it can't be," said Buffy, shaking her head stubbornly. She stood abruptly, walked away a few paces, before throwing her hands up and turning on her hell to look down at Giles. "We thought that-"

"Apparently we were wrong," Giles cut her off softly, staring at the pages in front of him."

"It's not identical, but it's similar enough and it's been years so I could be remembering it wrong..." Willow tried. She looked up at Buffy, desperate hope shining in her eyes.

"No two rituals are ever identical, you know that, Willow," Giles chided gently and the hope in Willow's eyes died, replaced with grim acceptance. He sighed. "Besides, I think we already know we're right. The clues are there."

There was a long pause. Remus held his breath, knowing he wasn't alone as he watched the four of them hold a silent conference with their eyes.

"Faith," Willow suddenly whispered, realization sweeping across her face. "The dream the Powers that Be sent her; they could've chosen anyone, her mom, Angel or her first watcher to send the message, but they chose Major Wilkins."

"When Faith met Phythia, she told her that one snake will wish to soar," Giles added.

"When the Snake grows wings, it will be too late,

And all will amount to naught.

Wings to see and wings to soar, his might will be too great."

Dawn had been looking down, but when finished reciting, she raised her eyes and met Giles. Then she continued in the same serious, determined voice laced with fear.

"To soar, to fly upwards... to ascend. It was right in front of us, we just didn't know what it meant."

She gulped and then turned to the wizards.

"We know what Voldemort's planning."

"And we're really not going to like it, are we?" said Harry.

She turned and looked at him apologetically over her shoulder.

"Nope, sorry, but you're really not."

* * *

"Yo, Cyclops, whatcha got there?" Faith called out as she walked out of the kitchen with her protein shake.

Xander looked up from where he was crouching to examine something inside a military-issue box. The open lid was facing her, so she couldn't see what he was holding, but the box itself looked like the sort used to store weapons.

"Yes, having just spent my day trudging through a forest and risking my life breaking into a muggle military base, I'd rather like to know the answer to that myself," said Draco.

Xander grinned.

"Aah, Draco, we're getting ready to join a magical war," he said. Faith raised an eyebrow at the gleeful expression on his face. "And, as you so like to remind some of us, we are just mere muggles, no magical talent whatsoever. Which means, we have to use our brains and come up with as many alternative methods of fighting all those lovely magical spells and creations good ol' Voldy plans on throwing at us."

Draco scowled down at him. Xander chuckled.

"Okay, so you said he likes using those inferi things, right?" Draco nodded. "And they can only be destroyed by using fire, right?"

"Yes, yes, I'm so glad you were paying attention," Draco finally threw his hands up in exasperation. "I'm assuming that all has something to do with whatever that contraption is?"

"Yup." Xander held up the thing he was holding. Faith took a few steps forward in order to get a closer look. "This just so happens to be called a flame thrower. Wanna guess what it does?"

Draco was stunned speechless. Faith's eyes widened. Then she grinned.

* * *

Severus Snape approached the Malfoy ballroom with a heavy feeling. So many thoughts clouded his mind, so many worries and concerns battled for supremacy. And none of them small things. First and foremost was worry over whether Lupin had received his package and managed to open it. Intellectually, he _knew_ Fawkes would get the message to him and he _knew_ the werewolf was at least clever enough to figure out the password to the wards surrounding the package, however the 'what ifs' wouldn't leave him alone. And then, of course, there was the worry that the order would decide the whole thing was just another trap and pay no attention to it.

His second worry, was that, if they did believe his letter, whatever they did manage to figure out wouldn't be fast enough. He'd finally finished the potion this afternoon. It only needed to sit in a dark place for two days less an hour. He still wasn't sure exactly what it did, except that it was clearly a transformation potion of sorts. An exceptionally dark transformation potion with some very odd, very potent ingredients.

At least he knew Draco was safe. Although, 'safe' had various definitions, some less tenuous than others. However, he'd already put his faith into the odd dream he'd had, so there was no point in doubts now. It was all out of his hands, in any case.

He stopped before the open ballroom doors and took a deep breath, forcefully clearing his mind. Now it was time to become the Dark Lord's loyal follower and find out what it was he required. Perhaps there was to be another raid tonight.

The Dark Lord noticed him as soon as he entered. He beckoned him and Severus went forward, kneeling in obeisance before his master.

"Severus, how is the potion coming along?" the Dark Lord asked.

"The brewing process is done, my Lord," Severus replied. "It merely needs to sit in a cool, dark place for two days and then it will be finished."

"Good, I'm glad to hear that." He waved him off, but as Severus stood and began to walk away, he was stopped with a word. "Oh, Severus, why don't you stay up by the front. I'll think you'll find tonight's proceedings particularly interesting and I would so hate for you to miss them."

Severus didn't like the sound of that. He wondered if they'd finally managed to capture an order member.

"Of course, my lord. I thank you for your consideration."

The Dark Lord chuckled and Severus could feel his eyes on him as he made his way to the front of the assembled death eaters. He scanned the room as he always did, absurdly grateful none of his current students were amongst the crowd. In fact, the youngest of the crowd seemed to be Marcus Flint, standing tall next to his older brother, Icarus.

A full twenty minutes passed before the Dark Lord gestured to the rat to close the doors, which Pettigrew did with a wave of his wand. Immediately, all talking ceased as death eaters turned to face their lord and master and knelt in proper greeting.

The Dark Lord surveyed them for a moment from his throne. Then he stood slowly, regally and spread his arms out in front of him.

"Rise, my loyal followers," he said into the silence.

He waited the assembled death eaters rose to their feet. Not a single word was spoken during the entire process. He smiled down at them, a sneering, malicious gesture that lacked any of the warmth one would expect it to have.

"I have something to share with you tonight." He turned to the side door – a servant's entrance – which was open a crack. "Rabastan, bring your prize out now."

The door opened fully and a large bundle wrapped in a tattered, moth-eaten blanket floated out, followed by Rabastan LeStrange himself. He floated the bundle to the empty space at the foot of the Dark Lord's throne.

"Finite incantatum," he said softly, although in the silent ballroom it echoed to everyone's ears.

The bundle slumped to the ground and Severus took a deep breath, preparing himself mentally not to react when the folds of the fabric settled around a huddled, vaguely-human shape. He had a feeling his hopes were about to be rather spectacularly dashed. He put his hands behind his back and subtly slipped his wand into his hand, hiding its tip inside his fist.

LeStrange walked up to the huddled figure. A flick of his wand and the blanket was thrown open and slipped off the huddled figure. Blank, pain-glazed, blood-shot eyes peeked out from behind long, brown bangs sprinkled with grey. There was a jagged, enflamed cut across the woman's cheek and her jaw looked a bit crooked. There were also several strips of skin missing from her left arm and her legs had a rubbery, empty look to them.

Severus didn't care to look closer, knowing it would only make it more difficult to maintain an indifferent demeanor. Although, he had a feeling it hardly mattered anymore. Still, he knew better than to give anything away prematurely. So he sneered down at the girl.

"Severus," said the Dark Lord, beckoning him forward. "Could you confirm the identity of this girl?"

Severus bowed his head and stepped forward, keeping his hand behind his back and hoping it looked respectful instead of that he was hiding something. The girl froze at the name.

"This girl used to be one of my students, one of Dumbledore's favourites," Severus said. "Her name is Nymphadora Tonks. She is an auror and, I believe, a member of the Order of the Phoenix."

He watched as her head slowly turned, her eyes finding him in the crowd. They widened slightly when they found him, the anger in them almost chasing away the glaze of pain. He met her anger with amusement.

"Indeed," the Dark Lord said with a nod. "She's been Rabastan's guest for several days now and one of my own polyjuiced operatives has taken her place. It has been a most successful endeavor."

Voldemort surveyed the assembled crowd again, his eyes lingering slightly on Severus, before moving on. Severus maintained a neutral facade, but inside he was scrambling to process what that tidbit of information meant. Severus took a deep breath, shoving aside the bubbles of panic attempting to erupt in his chest. The Dark Lord was purposefully drawing things out to make him panic.

There was no need to panic, however. Severus had already gone over this scenario in his mind; he knew exactly what to do. Nymphadora Tonks merely complicated matters slightly.

"It would seem we have a traitor amongst us," came the expected announcement.

Severus met Tonks' eyes again, this time showing her a fierce determination. She'd heard Voldemort's words and her eyes widened slightly.

"Severus, I must say it was rather clever of Dumbledore to have you use his own death to prove your complete loyalty to me. I apparently underestimated how far the old coot would go to stop me."

Severus looked up to Voldemort, maintaining his neutral appearance so as to not give anything away – let the bastard snake think he was panicking inside. Around him, he heard gasps. The Dark Lord's eyes were burning with a cold fury.

" A pity to lose such a talented servant," he continued. "But we can't have you writing any more letters to your werewolf friend."

Whispers erupted throughout the ballroom. The death eaters surrounding Severus all took a few steps back, leaving him standing all alone before the Dark Lord's anger. This didn't bother Severus in the least; there was a certain amount of satisfaction knowing that anger was due to the humiliation of having been out-witted.

He glanced to Nymphadora again. She was looking at him with understanding and sadness now. He sent her an apologetic look and her eyes widened for a few moments as she – hopefully – received his message. When he saw the acceptance in her eyes, he knew it had. Not that it mattered, truly. He would do what he had to.

"Do you have anything to say for yourself, before you are unable to speak properly?" Voldemort asked in a low, dangerous voice that dripped malice from every word.

Severus looked up again and – for the first time in the presence of the Dark Lord - straightened himself to his full height and held his head up proudly.

"No, I do not," he said clearly.

Voldemort grit his teeth. "Very well."

The Dark Lord began to raise his wand, drawing it out dramatically. Severus took full advantage, his movements much quicker and more economical.

"Avada kadavra!" he called.

"Protego!"

"**Expelliarmus!"**

As Severus flew backwards from the force of being hit by multiple disarming spells at once, his wand sailing away into some unknown part of the ballroom, he allowed himself a single smirk. His curse had hit. The Dark Lord was so preoccupied with his own importance it hadn't even occurred to him that Severus would aim to sabotage him instead of outright murder him. The polyjuice potion required a hair from a living person, after all.

Nymphadora Tonks' body stiffened as the killing curse hit her and then she slumped to the ground.

Severus finally hit the ground with a force that knocked the breath from him. As he fought to stay conscious, he could hear commotion around him. There was angry screaming coming from somewhere far away. He managed a small, breathy chuckle when he was finally able to breathe again.

"Scindo," he said.

At this point he wasn't sure if it was his imagination, but he could swear he could hear a pop from inside his belly as the small plastic pellet he'd swallowed a month ago split open. He smiled as the poison inside it spread directly into his digestive system and blood stream. It was one of his own design, one he'd never shared with anyone. It was a brilliant poison: quick, mostly painless and, most importantly, had no cure.

His body convulsed and Severus smiled.

"Severus?"

He opened his eyes. Standing right above him, his wand drawn and pointing directly at him, was Lucius Malfoy with a lost and confused look that didn't seem to belong on the proud man's face. Severus coughed up some blood, feeling his body getting heavy.

He felt someone preform a diagnostic spell on him.

"Lucius," he said softly. "Draco is alive and safe."

His friend's eyes widened.

"My lord, he's poisoned himself!" Severus heard someone call. His vision was beginning to blur

"... with... Dawn..."

Severus tried, but the only thing that came out of his mouth now was more blood. So, he stopped trying. Instead, he closed his eyes.

And then he could no longer hear the Dark Lord's angry screams. Nor could he see the silent tears gathering in Lucius Malfoy's eyes.

* * *

Honestly, I knew this was coming since the beginning and I still can't believe I just killed off my favourite HP character... and I had this planned waaay before the last book came out too! Anyway, so, uh, please review guys! Next chapter will be out in about two weeks... can't spoil you too much, you know.

Author's Notes:

**Cemetery –** My roommate was in London when I was beginning to write this chapter and sent me many pictures to look at. As a result, Azazella found herself walking through Highgate Cemetery, which I've absolutely fallen in love with, in order to meet Phythia. The two grave markers mentioned specifically are known as the Grave of the Unknown Housewife and the Thornton Piano (it is actually a full-sized piano made of marble).

**Crystal –** Connor's referencing _Angel_, Season 5, episode 21 when the gang confront Angel inside his office after having found out about Angel's new position inside the Circle of the Black Thorne. His crystal only gave them 6 minutes, but here I've gotten Willow to superpower it.

**Flame thrower –** Since all my wonderful readers are likely from all over the place, I just thought I'd clarify that in the UK it's illegal to own flame throwers of any kind. This isn't the case everywhere as there are flame throwers designed specifically for agricultural use and those are perfectly legal in many places. But they're in the UK now, hence needing to nab military flame throwers. Thanks wikipedia!

**Scindo -** According to an online English to Latin dictionary I found, 'scindo' means 'to split/divide'.


	26. Chapter 25

Weekend's here and so have a new chapter! Don't know when the next one'll be done, but I am working on it. Somehow, this has managed to end up being the shortest chapter of the story so far (aka. "only" 14 pages long). Aaanyway, thanks to everyone's, whose still reading this story and especially to those of you, who bothered to review the last chapter. Also, many, many thanks to **Biblioseros** for betaing this one!

Btw, I've had a horrible time trying to get some of the formatting in this chapter to translate properly onto this site, so I apologize if parts of it look a bit odd.

Disclaimer: All I own is the plot and the prophecy. And a few random, oddball characters.

* * *

**Prophecy of the Four**

**Chapter 25 –** The Second Movement

Dawn was just walking out of the kitchen cradling a large mug of coffee when the doorbell rang. She sighed.

"I've got it!" she called up the stairs, knowing her sister would hear despite being behind a closed door. Dawn prided herself on being more of a morning person than her sister – which admittedly didn't take much.

She caught a glimpse of Draco as he peeked out of the kitchen nursing his own cup of tea (he was attempting to be casual, but Dawn knew just how nervous he was about the arrival of their visitors). She flashed him a smile and then unlatched the front door. The sight that greeted her made her smile widen into a grin.

Professor McGonagall looked up from where she'd been peering curiously at the doorbell. Beside her, Remus was the only one, who looked half-comfortable with the situation. Alastor Moody was wearing a large fedora in order to shade his magical eye from view, but combined with his black travelling cloak, it only served to make him look like a gangster fresh out of Al Capone's ranks. Nymphadora Tonks kept looking from side to side with nervous eyes, as though expecting something to jump out and bite her. Arthur Weasley, on the other hand, seemed to have regressed to the age of about five and looked like he was about to enter his favourite toy store.

Dawn was a bit disappointed that Arthur was the only Weasley in attendance, but she stomped down on the feeling as she stepped back and opened the door wide.

"Hey guys," she said. "Buffy'll be down in a bit, but Giles and Willow are in the magic room. I know they've been doing setup all morning, but I'm not sure how far along they are."

"Good morning, Dawn," McGonagall said with a slight smile, although there was slight disapproval in her eyes. "I take it we can come in?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah, of course. Sorry, hellmouth survival training kinda sticks with you. When you live in a vamp town verbally inviting people inside can be hazardous to your health."

"Constant villigence is more important than politeness," Alastor Moody agreed with a gruff nod of approval as they entered. "I must admit I'm impressed with the wards you've used on the house. Wouldn't let us aparate directly in."

"That was almost entirely Willow and Giles. I mean, Lori and I helped a bit, but mostly with setup and planning. The magical bit was pretty much all Willow with Giles as anchor."

"You know, it might be worth looking into placing some similar wards around Hogwarts," said Remus.

"You think their wards are better than proper wizarding wards?" Tonks asked incredulously. Remus shrugged. Dawn gritted her teeth behind her smile as she closed the door, but decided she'd let Willow handle any magical superiority complexes.

"No, not necessarily, but they're different, not something You-Know-Who or his followers would be familiar with."

"A good idea, Remus," Professor McGonagall said. "Even if they do break them eventually, it would at least slow them down considerably as they try to figure out an unknown design. Alastor, perhaps you should take a look at their designs later."

Moody seemed rather pleased with the suggestion. It was then that Remus caught a glimpse of blond hair disappearing into a doorway further down a hallway to the left. He smiled slightly.

"How is Mister Malfoy adjusting to things?" he asked Dawn.

Dawn blinked and then smiled, pleased someone was concerned for her friend.

"He's doing well," she said. "I mean, there's lots to learn about muggle technology. Plus, it's difficult to change the habit of a lifetime and press a button or flick a switch instead of waving a wand, but he's getting there. Connor and Xander took him with them yesterday on their infiltration mission and he did okay. I think he misses magic, but Willow's promised to teach him some wandless magic once things settle down."

"Is that really such a good idea?" Tonks asked with a frown.

Dawn raised an eyebrow.

"This isn't a prison, he can do whatever he wants," she said firmly. "Plus, it's not like he couldn't just find a book and start learning on his own, but in the spirit of 'been there, done that, wish I could burn the t-shirt', we all know it's way safer for everyone if magic is taught by someone who knows what they're doing, instead of haphazardly from books and experimentation."

"That is very true," Professor McGonagall agreed.

"Ah, I thought I'd heard the doorbell," a voice interrupted the conversation. Dawn turned to see Giles walking out of the magic room. "I apologize for not coming out sooner. We've mostly soundproofed the room, so it's difficult to hear anything from outside it even with the door partially open."

He greeted the wizards warmly and ushered them towards his office so he could explain the ritual, while Willow and Lori finished their preparations. As they left, Dawn took the opportunity to peek in on said preparations. The shield of Ravenclaw was leaning against the far wall still wrapped in a blanket while Willow and Lori drew on the floor in chalk. Or rather Lori was still drawing on the floor while Willow was busy sprinkling some sort of dirt/herb mixture around the perimeter of the circle they'd created.

"Hey guys," she called out from the door way, not wanting to step in completely lest she disrupt something. "Giles is entertaining the wizards in his office. Do you two need any help?"

"Uh, no thanks, Dawnie," said Willow, looking up with a smile. "We're almost done here and it would probably take me longer to explain what needs finishing and how than it would for me to just do it."

"'K. Buffy should be on her way down soon. Draco and I'll be in the library if anyone needs us."

"Where's Xander?" Lori asked without looking up from where she was drawing some symbols around the inside perimeter of the circle.

"Outside teaching the slayerettes how to use the new toys they brought back yesterday."

"Hmm."

Dawn watched them for a few more minutes before she realized her coffee cup was empty. She softly closed the door after herself as she left.

Draco was already in the library with his nose in a very thick tome when she entered.

"You know, I think I now know this library better than I ever knew the Hogwarts library," he said conversationally as she sat down and grabbed the next book off the stack they'd created last night.

Dawn chuckled.

"Is that a good thing?" she asked.

"Not sure yet. I'll let you know when I've made up my mind on the subject."

He turned a page and took a sip of his tea. Dawn could smell the familiar scent of the vanilla chai Draco had fallen in love with instead of Dawn's precious coffee. They slipped into a comfortable silence.

An hour passed during which Draco had left briefly and came back with sandwiches (there was always a pre-made platter of them in the fridge for people to take from as needed) and Dawn had traded her empty coffee cup for a large glass of apple juice. Otherwise, the library was silent.

They both jumped at the unexpected 'pop' sound.

Draco automatically went for his wand as he began looking about the room for the intrusion.

"Young Master Malfoy!" a small voice squeaked from beside him.

He looked down and blinked in surprise at the teary-eyed house elf looking up at him. It looked vaguely familiar, but it wasn't until he saw the light blue silk scarf around its neck that he made the connection between the droopy-eared creature looking up at him with large, soulful eyes and his mother's stoic personal house elf.

"Pippy?" he asked, incredulously.

The house elf sniffed and Draco suddenly noticed the scroll it was clutching against its partially scarf-covered chest as though its life depended on it. He saw its eyes dart nervously towards Dawn and sighed.

"Don't worry, she's a friend," he said, wishing the creature didn't look quite so pathetic, so he could just yell at it. He mustered as much authority into his voice as he could without raising his voice. "Now, what are you doing here?"

The house elf blinked and then suddenly its arms shot out, the scroll held out for him to take.

"Master Malfoy sent Pippy, except he's not Pippy's master anymore, because he gave me clothes" the house elf immediately began to babble hysterically. "Master – no former master - told Pippy to find the young master and that young master Draco would be my new master and then he gives Pippy mistress's scarf. Said it was important for Pippy not to belong to the manor and that the young master didn't have any house elves, because he was with muggles and the message had to be delivered quickly without dark lord finding out. Pippy thinks the master was very sad and-"

Draco took the scroll from the house elf and it immediately fell silent. He was _very_ happy about this, because he wasn't sure how much more of the hysterical house elf he could've coped with before he silenced it magically.

The scroll bore the Malfoy seal. Draco thumbed it idly, trying to decide whether or not his father would've gone to this much trouble to prepare a trap for him. He shook his head. No, there would be no point to that. He swallowed and took a deep breath to calm the twitters in his belly. His hands were shaking, so he ignored them, greeting denial as an old friend.

He broke the seal. Nothing happened. Draco unravelled the scroll and began to read. When he finished reading the brief message, he read it again. He'd been half-expecting it to be an announcement of his disinheritance. He most certainly hadn't been expecting this.

Then the words of the letter began to sink in and Draco collapsed into his chair.

"Draco?" came a soft voice. A hand gently grasped his shoulder. "What is it? What did your father have to say?"

Draco opened his mouth, but nothing came out. So, instead of answering, he simply handed her the parchment. Dawn carefully took the parchment and read silently.

_Draco,_

_I fear this message shall be short, for there is only so much time even I can spend pretending to choose a bottle of wine from the cellars. I hope this message finds you safe and I have reason to believe that you are, though I have no idea how Severus could have possibly known. I can only imagine he heard it from the Order of the Phoenix._

_Yes, I know he was their spy, Dumbledore's man to his last breath. Words cannot express how deeply sorry I am to tell you Severus Snape is dead. He died by his own poison rather than risk any information he might know passing from him to the Dark Lord. Auror Nymphadora Tonks is also dead. If you have contact with the Order of the Phoenix you must tell them the Nymphadora Tonks with them is a polyjuiced spy for the Dark Lord. If this information allows you into their good graces, then the risk I'm running of giving it to you will have been worth it._

_I am sending Pippy with this letter. She is now yours to do with as you please as I will be dismissing her from service at the Malfoy Manor._

_Survive, Draco. Whatever happens, survive. If we should not meet again, then I wish you happiness. I may not have said this enough, but remember that your mother and I are proud of you and we have always loved you. You are still my son and heir to the Malfoy line. That will never change._

_Your father,_

_Lucius Malfoy._

Dawn finished reading and took a deep breath.

"Okay, so first of all, I'm sorry to hear about your potions professor," she said. "But, um, I think we have a bit of a problem here, 'cause if the real Nymphadora Tonks is dead, then that means the spy is currently here at the Watcher's Council."

Draco's head shot up his eyes widening as he realized she was right.

"Bloody hell!" he swore, adrenaline suddenly energizing his weary limbs.

He jumped to his feet only to be stopped by the diminutive house elf that was still staring at him forlornly. Its ears hung even lower than before and it was playing with the edge of the silk scarf around its neck.

"Well, I guess you're mine now," said Draco. Pippy perked up at his words. "This is a mostly muggle house, you realize: is there going to be enough magic here for you?"

The hope that shone in its eyes was almost heartbreaking.

"Oh yes, Master Draco," Pippy chirped, nodding its head so vigourously Draco wondered how long its neck would be able to stand it before it snapped. "This house is full of magic. Not wizard magic, but powerful magic. More than enough for Pippy, master."

"Good, then give me the scarf."

Pippy happily unwound the scarf from around her neck and held it out to Draco. Draco took it and brought it to his nose. It still smelt like his mother. Reverently, he placed it down onto the book he'd been reading before being interrupted. If his eyes were a little teary, Dawn didn't mention it.

"Done?" Dawn asked him.

Draco nodded and together they exited the library. Connor was just coming out of the kitchen.

"Connor!" Dawn called. The boy stopped and turned to wait for them. "You have perfect timing. We have a problem and need your help."

"Pippy, there are other wizards in the house," said Draco. "If any of them start to leave, let us know. Don't be seen."

"Yes, master!" said Pippy before disappearing with a 'pop'.

Connor barely had time to blink in confusion at the out-of-place creature before Dawn grabbed him by the bicep and dragged him back into the kitchen.

* * *

With a calm confidence, Willow lit the last candle in the circle. The wizards had offered to help her, but she'd refused with a smile. Every action in a ritual was important, including lighting candles and, besides, introducing foreign magic into the mix was risky. So, she carefully lit one candle before taking it and, walking clockwise around the large circle, using it to light all the others.

They illuminated the darkened room and cast long shadows onto the shield laying in the middle of the circle. Clusters of gleamingly white animal bones surrounded it and incense burned from two spots just inside the circle. If someone had taken a piece of chalk and drew lines between the two incense burners and the single spot, where the smaller circle touched the larger one, they would've realized the three spots formed a equilateral triangle.

It was on that spot, where the two circles touched, that Willow replaced her first candle, thus completing the circle of small flames. A small hand-woven basket sat just in front of the candle and inside, nestled in a bed of dried herbs, was an Orb of Thesulah.

Willow then sat down inside the smaller circle, crossing her legs and resting her hands palm up on her knees. She took a few moments and quietly looked over the layout of the circle before her, mentally going over the ritual checklist and making sure everything was there. Finally, she looked up at her audience, which consisted of Giles, Lori, Buffy and the wizards and smiled nervously.

"Well, here goes nothing," she said. Buffy gave her a thumb's up and a grin.

She turned her attention back to the circle and took a deep breath. She closed her eyes and centered herself, allowing her surroundings and all other thoughts to drift away until all she felt was the energy deep within her. Then she reached out to touch the energy around her and gently nudged it until it flowed through her like a lazy brook. She infused the circle with her magic and the candle flames shot up as her magic touched them, before returning to their original state – though her audience would later agree they looked a little brighter afterwards.

She opened her eyes and began to chant:

"_Quod periditum est invenietur._

_Nici mort, nici al fintei,_ _te invoc spirit al trecerii._

_Gods, bind this piece of soul,_ _cast out its fellows from the evil realm._

_Indulgere ab reconcilare se._

_Te implor, Doamne; nu ignoră aceasta rugăminte._

_Lăsa orbită să fie vasul._

_Este scris, aceeasta putere este dreptul poporul meu de a conduce._

_Aşa să fie! Aşa să fie!_

_Acum! Acum!_

Her voice sounded confident and, as the chant continued, grew more and more powerful. By the end of the chant, it boomed throughout the room, sounding almost on level with the very gods she was beseeching. The room felt tense, heavy with magic and Willow's will, like an invisible smoke that would ignite at the single strike of a match.

At first nothing happened, but steadily, a greenish-blue glow began to surround the shield, looking like a thin, ghost-ly coating of paint. Willow's focus was on the glow as she felt it work, fed it power from the gentle stream flowing through her as it burrowed its way into the shield, forcing out the dark soul hiding there. She didn't hear the gasps as a dark gray lump of smoke suddenly began to push its way out of the shield. It strained against the ghost layer, which gave way, but didn't break. Once all of the smoke was out the shield, it slid off it like a sheet and then sealed its ends together, enclosing the smokey soul inside.

Then it drifted to the orb and disappeared into its depths. The first part was done. Willow felt the magic inside the circle begin to dissipate, so she didn't hesitate to renew the chant. Pulling even more power into the spell, she raised her voice once more.

"_Gods, I beseech thee,_ _cast out this dark soul from the evil realm._

_Indulgere ab reconcilare se._

_Te implor, Doamne; nu ignoră aceasta rugăminte._

_Lăsa orbită să fie vasul._

_Este scris, aceasta putere este dreptul poprul meu de a conduce._

_Aşa să fie! Aşa să fie!_

_Acum! Acum!"_

Half-way through, a wind picked up within her circle, sweeping her hair away from her eyes. She could feel magic burn through her veins as she focused on nothing but being a conduit for it, using it to power the words of her spell. Later, her observers would attempt to describe how her entire body seemed to light up from the inside like a human-shaped magic lamp. But Willow wasn't aware of anything but the movements inside the magical circle in front of her. The mists inside the Orb of Thesulah swirled and changed gradually from blue to purple as magic summonded forth the parts of Voldemort's soul, which had already been destroyed and thus banished into the ether of the afterlife.

Then came the difficult part. She had to summon to her the parts of Voldemort's soul which hadn't been destroyed yet, weren't inside him and without knowing their exact location or how they were being protected.

She took a deep breath and began the third part of the spell.

_"Goddess, give me guidence, grant me eyes to see, _

_grant me power to break the spell of evil. _

_Te implor, Doamne; _

_Lăsa orbită să fie vasul. _

_Este scris, aceasta putere este dreptul poprul meu de a conduce. _

_Aşa să fie cu ajutorul acestui magic glob de cristal._

_ Aşa să fie! Aşa să fie! _

_Acum! Acum!_

She had no idea how much time was passing as she remained in trance, following the flows of magic to the other pieces of soul. There were three left, all in different places. Two of them seemed to be tied to other energy sources and Willow realized with a jolt that threatened her concentration that those energies were alive. Knowing she couldn't allow herself to get distracted, she left those two for the moment and concentrated on the third. She nudged the magicks flowing through her in its direction.

It was all the direction the spell needed, and soon the ties binding the soul fragment to the item were beginning to unravel. The purple mist inside the orb swirled violently and then changed into a deeper purple.

Then the spell attacked the living containers. Willow gasped at the intense pain that suddenly exploded through her connection. She grit her teeth and focused on the connections. The first container seemed to scream in a sort of voiceless pain that reminded her of an animal. The second, however, did not. Not only that, but Willow could faintly feel a brush of magic fighting against her intrusion – magic that did not feel at all like Voldemort's and was free of any darkness.

Puzzled, and more than a little worried, she focused on the unfamiliar magic. When she felt the being's pain increase through the connection, she wished she could hold her connection without the spell fueling it. However, it would take too long to re-establish the connection in any other way and she needed to know what she was dealing with.

_'S-stop, please stop!'_

Willow's concentration faltered for a moment at the unexpected voice. The connection nearly collapsed, but she grabbed onto every single remaining thread and refused to let it slip.

_'Hello?'_ she called out gently.

There was a pain-filled pause and then the voice was back and Willow felt confusion along with the pain.

_'You're not Voldemort.'_

Suddenly, Willow knew exactly what was going on.

_'Harry?'_ she asked

Another pause and then: _'Willow? You're Willow, aren't you?'_

_'Yes. Oh goddess, I'm sorry for hurting you, Harry. I'll sever the connection now. Don't worry, you'll sleep through the worst of the headache. We'll talk later.'_

She pulled the spell she'd been maintaining away from Harry, casting a sleeping charm just before dropping the connection with him. She left the other living creature alone as well – she wasn't sure she could remove the horcrux from it without killing it and she didn't want to kill it if she didn't have to.

Willow ended the spell carefully, taking her time to make sure she gradually stopped the flow of power she was feeding it. Abruptly ending a spell this powerful could have explosive consequences that were best avoided, especially if she wanted to keep the soul fragments already inside the Orb of Thesulah inside the orb. Slowly, the world around her came back into focus and she could feel the wooden floor beneath her and hear the beat of her heart as it returned to its normal beat.

She opened her eyes and looked at the orb in front of her. The mist was a deep shade of purple. She looked up at the candle flames and concentrated. They went out as one.

Then she slumped forward as exhaustion overtook her. She fought against sleep and forced herself away from the floor. Almost imediately there were arms helping her stand and she looked up and smiled thankfully into Giles' worried gaze.

"How'd it go?" he asked.

"The spell worked, but we have a problem," she answered.

"Then that makes two problems."

Willow and Giles both looked up at Dawn's voice. Willow frowned, wondering when Dawn had entered the room, but, more importantly, wondering why she sounded so angry.

"Dawn?" Buffy asked. "What's going on?"

The slayer sounded equally confused and when Willow turned to her friend she realized both Connor and Draco had also entered the room while she'd been casting. Connor was leaning against the wall behind the wizards and as Willow watched, he quietly stepped forward so that he was standing directly behind the pink-haired witch named Tonks.

"Well, it's quite simple, really," Draco answered instead of Dawn. He walked casually towards Buffy, crossing in front of the wizards, until he abruptly swung around and pointed his wand at Tonks. "It seems we have a spy in our midst."

Dawn pulled a crossbow from behind her back and pointed it at Tonks as well. Tonks responded by drawing her wand, but a hand on her wrist stopped her from raising it. Startled, she looked behind her and met Connor's calm eyes.

"Sorry, don't think so," he said.

"Oi, what's going on?!" Tonks exclaimed, looking surprised and worried.

"What is the meaning of this?" McGonagall demanded.

"Auror Tonks is a highly-valued member of the Order of the Phoenix," Moody growled, raising his own wand and pointing it at Draco.

Buffy stepped forward, so that she was standing beside Draco as she stared the veteran auror down.

"Oh bloody hell, this is all we needed," Willow heard Giles mutter beside her and she had to suppress a giggle that threatened to erupt.

"If they say she's a spy, then there's probably a reason for it," Buffy said, enunciating every word very clearly and precisely.

"I am not a spy!" Tonks declared angrily, struggling in vain against Connor's iron grip. "How dare you accuse me of being one you stupid muggles!"

"Unhand her this instant!" demanded McGonagall. "I've known this girl since she was a child! She would never betray us."

"This is ridiculous!" Remus exclaimed into the din. "Nymphadora Tonks-"

"Remus, I'm sorry," said Dawn, the sadness in her voice along with the sympathetic look she shot the werewolf, silenced the room. "But Nymphadora Tonks is dead. As is Severus Snape. His cover was blown and she'd been Voldemort's prisoner. We know he poisoned himself rather than allow himself to be taken prisoner and tortured for information. We assume he's the one, who killed Tonks, but we're not totally sure about that. Either way, this isn't Tonks."

There were a few moments of stunned silence, before Moody broke it.

"If what you're saying is true, then he probably did kill her," he said, slowly turning so that his wand was pointed at Tonks instead of Draco. "Polyjuice requires specimens from a living creature and Severus, of all people, would know that very well. Besides, if she'd been a prisoner of You-Know-Who, then death was probably a mercy."

"Wh-where does this information come from?" McGonagall asked. There were tears in her eyes.

Draco shifted uncomfortably.

"My father," he answered.

Arthur Weasley snorted. "Well, that's not exactly the most reliable of sources."

Draco grit his teeth, his eyes flashing angrily. "He didn't have to send any information at all. He did it to help me ingratiate myself with you, if you must know."

"Arthur," Moody interrupted the red-headed man's reply. Willow couldn't help but notice the auror hadn't moved his wand from Tonks. "As loath as I am to take any form of help from Lucius Malfoy, this isn't the sort of lie he'd make up. It's too easily discredited. All we have to do is lock 'er up and by the end of the day she's either still Tonks or she isn't."

Suddenly, Remus crossed to Tonks. She tried to move a way, but Connor's other hand shot out to grab her other arm and held her in place. Remus lent in and took a deep sniff at her throat. Her eyes widened, the fear in them settling the question in Willow's mind even before Remus pulled away. He slowly took a step backwards. There were tears in his eyes.

"You didn't change your perfume," he said quietly. "Your scent changed entirely. I can't believe I was such a naïve fool. If I'd realized then... maybe we could've..."  
Tonks' face twisted with anger. "You're all naïve fools if you think-"

Buffy didn't let her finish the sentence, knocking her out with one punch. She then looked at everyone else and shrugged.

"Figured we could wait 'till she's got her own body back before we have to listen to all the standard bullshit bad guy rhetoric."

"Fine by me," said Connor with a shrug as he placed her down onto the ground. He took her wand and handed it to McGonagall, who took it with a nod.

Draco lowered his wand and Dawn her crossbow. Moody cast a binding charm.

* * *

Rose-coloured clouds were just beginning to fade when a plane landed on the tarmac at Heathrow airport. It was right on time. People exited, heading for the arrivals gate in the same orderly fashion a gaggle of geese waddles through the gate of a farm enclosure.

Among them was a young man with tanned skin and a head of golden curls, which seemed to have developed a life of their own somewhere in between a lion's mane and a clown's wig. He led a group of ten young women - girls really - all as different from one another as accidental strangers meeting on a plane could be. Yet they were clearly a group. Only one of them actually looked threatening with her bright green mohawk, numerous body piercings and bare arms covered in tribal tattoos, but all of them walked forward with a confidence that made those around them move out of their way.

None of them noticed the large brown bird sitting atop of one of the light fixtures inside the terminal. It fixed beady black eyes on them, watching carefully as they walked past it. It flew off once they were out of sight.

The young man led the girls to where their welcome wagon was waiting. His face split into a giddy, boyish grin as soon as he spotted them.

"Spike!" he cried and ran to the pale man leaning against a set of standard airport chairs.

The vampire in question looked down with an annoyed grimace at the blond human now attached to him. Slowly, he brought his hands down to awkwardly pat the boy on the back.

"Uh, hello there, Andrew," he said.

Dawn giggled and Spike glared at her. Beside her, Draco simply looked bemused. The girls with Andrew alternated between looked highly amused and watching the vampire warily through narrowed eyes. A few eyed Draco out of the corner of their eyes as well. A petite Asian with her hair up in two pink pigtails carefully observed their surroundings. Dawn greeted them all with a grin as their watcher was otherwise occupied.

Eventually, Andrew allowed himself to be peeled off of Spike. He turned to Dawn.

"Hello Dawn," he said solemnly, as though he hadn't just been hugging the stuffing out of a vampire in the same way he would his favourite teddy bear. "I'm glad to see you are now safe and away from the Evil Lord of Dark Wizards."

"Hi, Andrew," Dawn said with a smile. "It's good to see you again too. And thanks, I'm, uh, definitely glad to be out of Voldemort's Dungeon of Horrors and Infinite Boredom."

Draco snorted. "Considering that the alternative would be spending quality time with either the Dark Lord himself or one of the other death eaters, you should be glad for the boredom."

Dawn shrugged.

"Huh, I don't know you," said Andrew, finally noticing Draco. He eyed him curiously before sticking a hand out in greeting. "Greetings, I am Andrew Wells, watcher-in-training and co-chairman of the Tara McClay Training School in Rome."

Draco blinked and then took his hand and shook it.

"I'm Draco Malfoy," he said.

"He's a wizard," Dawn explained. "He was originally my dungeon guard and then he escaped with me."

"Aaah, I see," Andrew said, nodding his head in profound understanding. "So, my young padawan, you have decided to seek redemption for the sins committed by the indiscretion of youth. Well, I must warn you, it is not easy to turn from the way of the sith and the path to redemption-"

"Actually," Dawn quickly interrupted. "I think it was more along the lines of 'take the tattoo and become my minion or I kill your parents'."

Andrew froze mid-speech. He blinked a few times and then closed his mouth.

"Oh."

"Yeah, oh," said Spike. "Now, I think we should pro'lly shove off."

On their way to the van, Andrew continued to engage Draco in conversation until finally the young wizard threw his hands up.

"What in the world _are_ you blathering on about?!" he exclaimed. "I haven't the slightest idea what any of these silly Muggle things you keep talking about are!"

Andrew looked horrified. Until the expression on his face turned, very, very happy. Suddenly, Draco wished he'd just gritted his teeth and kept his mouth shut.

"Don't worry," Andrew assured him. "I will educate you in the Way of the Force."

Then he walked off with a bounce in his step, practically humming.

"Do I _want _to be educated in the Way of the Force?" Draco muttered to the vampire, who was now standing beside him.

"I think the real question, mate, is will you be given a choice," the vampire answered.

Dawn came up to him on his other side.

"On the other hand, if you ever want to have even half an idea what Andrew's saying, you should probably let him," she said. "He's difficult enough to understand half the time even when you do get the references."

Draco sighed and followed miserably behind the others to the van.

* * *

Night fell gently onto the village of Avebury, the sun sending its final farewell of the day with a brilliant banner of colour before setting behind the treetops. As the sky began to darken, the first stars of the night appeared, twinkling timidly around a pale half-moon. Lively birdsong was replaced with the calm chirping of crickets. Music pouring out of open doors of shops and the multitudes of hurried voices with things to do and places to be slowly trickled away as the voices moved into the restaurant and kitchens and then living rooms. The pub opened its doors wide and turned the music up to welcome that night's carousers and a few tourists.

Eventually, even the most steadfast carousers stumbled out of the pubs and into their beds, whether they were in a house or on a flowerbed. By then the village was dark, lit up only by streetlamps and the occasional front door light. Though the night was supposed to be clear, clouds had silently crept across the sky to cover the stars and moon. The last whispers of love had died off as the villagers slipped into dreams. Even the crickets were silent.

And so it was, in the dead of night, that no one noticed the shadows hovering around corners and in alleys grow darker and then spread out like dark fog to cover the streets and front steps where light still touched.

Suddenly, the softly-creeping clouds turned a sinister black and a vicious wind batted at roofs and trees and windows. White light streaked across the sky and seconds later thunder bellowed like a clap of impending doom. More lightening followed, brilliant flashes that illuminated the pitch black sky and split the elderly tree in the corner of the manor grounds into two burning halves. The sky never stopped rumbling, only pausing for breath before delivering another deafening roar. The wind, a gale now, howled constantly, whipping between buildings like dozens of angry sirens. It was the sort of violent storm that should've woken every man, woman and child, including the snoring drunks resting on flowerbeds and yesterday's garbage with its rage.

It should've. But it didn't. A few people stirred, but not a single person woke.

Only one, solitary figure walked along the main street, humming softly as he strolled past darkened windows. The violent storm raged around him, but did not touch him. He watched it all with a pleased smile on his handsome face.

Then, just as suddenly as it started, the storm stopped. As though some deity had flipped a cosmic switch, the sky went silent, the light stopped flashing and the wind transformed into a light breeze. The dark, sinister clouds rolled away and the stars once again peek out onto the village below them. Not a trace of the storm was left behind.

Hours later, the sun came up again. A few roosters welcomed it loudly before they began to root around for food. One by one, all the dogs in the hamlet began to howl. Then phones began to ring.

It would be mid-morning before anyone realized what had happened during the night.

Every single soul in Avebury was gone.

* * *

Author's Notes:

**Restoration ritual**: The ritual Willow preforms is based on the two she's preformed before in order to restore Angel's soul. Of course, because what she's preforming here is very different from the ones she's done before (Angel's was all in one piece and in one place) the ritual has been modified. I changed up the layout of the circles (two instead of just one, for a start) and changed the incantation a bit. Hopefully, it still makes sense to anyone, who actually speaks either Romanian or Latin, which are the two other languages used in it according to .com. Which was where most of the info about this ritual came from.

**Avebury**: The village of Avebury is indeed a real place in Wiltshire county. It's about 17 miles away from Stonehenge and 12 miles away from the town of Chippenham. It's most noteable for its three stone circles surrounding it and the Avebury Manor and gardens. For the record, I have never been there, so I'm mostly going on pictures, a tourist map and my roommate's word that there's a pub in the village (I mean, it's a European village, so quite frankly I'd be shocked if there wasn't a pub in it somewhere). I spent more time researching the perfect location for this particular scene than I did writing it.

Btw, is there anyone from Avebury reading this? If so, sorry for, um 'disappearing' you. =P


	27. Chapter 26

Sorry for the delay on this chapter (and I was doing so well during the summer *sigh*). I'm not dead yet though, and neither is this story. We're nearing the end, but there's still a ways to go. Anyway, thanks to everyone, who read, reviewed or favourited the last chapter. And, of course, to **Biblioeros** for betaing this chapter.

I would also like to thank **Rich**, whose comments on Chapter 23 on Twisting the Hellmouth inspired Faith's scene in this chapter.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything but the plot, the prophecy and a few OCs.

Enjoy!

* * *

**Prophecy of the Four**

**Chapter 26 –** Darkness Rising

Big Ben towered over its surroundings, very little hindering its view of the Thames and the London Eye. Majestic and beautiful, its tower was still a child to much of the city, even more so to the land it stood upon. Yet it was the first to notice the thin wisps of darkness slither from the river's shores and twist into the city, until they wrapped themselves ever so slightly around the buildings' foundations, the edges of dark alleyways and into the depths of every shadow they could find.

Big Ben shuddered, the stones holding it together wanting nothing more than to shrink away from the shadows now surrounding them. They tried calling out, but humans are deaf to the language of stone. The time came and Big Ben rang out into the city, dismayed at how dimmed its sound seemed.

A few humans looked up at the sound. If any of them detected the faint panic in its tone, they quickly dismissed it as their imagination.

And so, from within its tower, Big Ben watched as people milled around - some with purpose, some for pleasure – and saw the darkness sneak into their souls, weighing them down without their knowledge. He saw smiles dim and brows furrow. He saw laughter turn to anger, happiness to despair.

Helplessly, it watched as the darkness slunk across the city and spread like a very subtle plague.

Its cries went unheard and unheeded.

* * *

Faith stumbled out of the red mini cooper Giles used as his personal car. She yawned widely and attempted to rub some life into her blurry, tired eyes. Ten o'clock in the morning might not be considered early by most people, but she lived and worked on a slayer schedule.

From the other side of the car, she heard Giles pulling her gym bag out of the back seat. Then the door banged shut and she heard the electronic lock engage. Faith didn't bother to look at him. She was too busy examining the Victorian-style house they were parked in front of. It was a rather dreary-looking structure with a pointed roof over the entrance-way, which sported a beautiful stained glass window above the door. Faith raised an eyebrow at the green dragon depicted in it.

Around the property was a black iron fence, interrupted every six feet with a large stone pillar. The gate was held up by two pillars that were bigger than the others with stone lions sitting at attention on top.

Giles walked up to the gate and pressed a doorbell, which was mounted on the right-hand pillar. When Faith joined him there, she saw it was not only a doorbell, but a speaker as well.

"Yes, hello?" a woman's voice said through the speaker moments later.

"Hello, this is Rupert Giles," Giles immediately said into the speaker. "I booked a lesson for my student, Faith Lehane."

"Ah, of course, come on in Mr. Giles."

Giles stepped up to the gate and pushed it open when the buzzer sounded. He and Faith then walked up the white stone walkway to the front of the house. Faith couldn't help but notice what looked like well-tended flowerbeds, though most of the flowers were drooping and drying out. It was a shame, because otherwise, she was sure they would look pretty.

The front door was opened just as they reached it by a tall woman in her fifties. Her light blond hair was pulled back into a tight bun, which accentuated her high forehead and emphasized the striking blue of her eyes. Then she smiled at them and her face transformed into a completely different person: the sort that invited complete strangers in for tea because they looked like they needed it.

"Good morning," she said. "I'm Angelina White. Come on in. Stanley's downstairs waiting for you."

"Thank you," said Giles with an incline of his head. "I suppose we'd best not keep him waiting."

She laughed. "Oh I wouldn't worry too much about that. I'm sure he's finding something to play with down there. The children bought him Guitar Hero 5 for his birthday."

Faith chuckled, though she was still confused as to what she and Giles were doing here. He'd said something about remedial training, but nothing in the house hinted at anything to do with slaying. The halls were brightly lit with small crystal chandeliers with three arms each about two meters apart from each other and paintings of countryside panoramas lining the dusty blue walls.

Then they passed by an open door that lead into what was probably the living room and Faith stopped. Comfortably worn-in leather furniture barely registered in her eyes - though she did notice the rather new-looking flat screen TV - but what caught her attention was the giant stone fireplace that dominated the room and the two broadswords that hung above it. Faith had spent half her life using swords and she could tell a real one from a cheap replica at a distance.

These swords were real. And they weren't new. No matter how well a person maintained a sword, one could always tell a decorative trinket (even an authentically-made, expensive one), from a weapon. If she stood close enough to them, Faith had a feeling, she would probably be able to still smell the blood.

"They're symbolic," a voice said from behind her and Faith turned to Angelina's gentle smile.

"They're real," Faith countered.

Angelina nodded. "Yes, they're mine. When I married Stanley, I decided to hang up my swords for good." She gestured to them. "And, so, there they hang. It's a symbol of my choice to be a wife and a mother instead of a warrior – that I chose love over violence. Yet, the swords are also a reminder of the strength that exists at the heart of our family, the strength that will awaken if necessary in order to protect that choice, that family."

Faith stood transfixed for a few moment, looking into those bright, blue eyes until she saw something vaguely familiar looking back at her. She gasped.

"You're a slayer?" she whispered.

Angelina laughed.

"No, dear, I was only a potential. The Watcher's Council took me from my parents when I was very young and assigned me to a watcher, who trained me to hunt and kill. I remember hoping and praying fiercely when I was a little girl that I would be chosen as the next slayer, dreaming about how I would become a great legendary warrior." She paused, her expression turning a little dreamy. "And then I met Stanley and by the end of that winter I was wishing and praying I would never be chosen. The day I turned eighteen and thus too old to be chosen became the happiest day of my life."

"It was also the day she finally said 'yes' when I asked her out," a male voice added cheerfully.

They all looked down the hall to where a lanky man with short, brown hair wearing a white cotton shirt with the top two buttons undone and a pair of dark blue jeans stood leaning against the wall. There was a rapier tucked in the crook of his arms.

"I was wondering what was taking you so long," he said as Angelina walked up to him.

"I'm sorry, we got distracted," she said.

He snorted.

"Yes, I could see that. I dare say they're now appreciating the subtle irony of how you hung up your swords so that you could go and marry a champion fencer."

"Fencing?" Faith asked out loud, turning to Giles. "Yo, you want me to learn fencing? Isn't that more of, like, a game than a combat style. Seriously, how the hell am I supposed to decapitate a demon with the skinny-ass sword?"

"Ha!" the man – she was assuming he was Stanley – barked out. "I take it this is the girl? You don't live up to your name much, do you?"

Faith scowled at him, then transferred the scowl to Giles as she noticed the corners of his mouth twitching suspiciously.

"Young lady, the objective here is not to teach you to fence properly," Stanley continued. "It is to show you how to incorporate the basics of fencing into your regular swordsmanship."

Faith blinked twice and then put her hand on her hip.

"Yup, sorry, still confused here."

"Then allow me to demonstrate." He grabbed the rapier by the hilt, his face becoming serious, though his movements lost none of their energy. "First of all, this 'skinny-ass sword', as you so rudely called it, is a 'sabre'. And, secondly, this is the beginning stance – otherwise known as the 'en-garde position'."

Faith took in his stance: one foot in front of the other as he balanced on the balls of his feet, ready to jump into action and his right hand holding his sword in front of him and pointing slight upwards. Her eyes widened moments later as she realized he was holding his left arm away from his body and _away from his sword_.

Stanley smirked when he saw she'd figured it out.

"In fencing, only the dominant hand is used," he said.

"To most people, any of these movements would be next to impossible to do with a heavy broadsword," Giles finally spoke up. Faith looked at him and smirked.

"Yeah, but I ain't most people," she said.

"That you most certainly are not."

Stanley dropped his stance and grinned.

"Shall we get started then?"

Faith echoed his grin.

"Hell yeah!"

* * *

Prime Minister Anthony Davidson had actually been relieved to see Kingsley Shacklebolt once again at his desk when he came in that morning. The wizard had assured him he was well recovered from his injuries and confirmed that they were co-operating with the Watcher's Council – although he, curiously enough, didn't mention the Ministry of Magic, merely said 'we'. Anthony decided to ask Rupert Giles about it later.

However, as these things often happen, when he did speak to Rupert Giles just after noon, it was the last thing on his mind.

In a stroke of brilliant paranoia to rival Anthony's own, Norman offered to lend him his son's cellphone, since no one would ever think to put a trace on a child's phone. He wasn't entirely sure how Norman had managed to convince the boy to hand over his phone for an indefinite period of time, but he had a feeling there was a substantial bribe involved and possibly a James Bond-style story.

The phone showed the time as being 11:26 when it vibrated, catching Anthony by surprise and making him nearly spill half a beaker of coffee all over the speech he was supposed to be delivering in the afternoon at a conference on clean energy or whatever long-winded name the organizers had decided to give it. He frowned when he checked the display.

It was a text message from Connie Price. He'd e-mailed her this number on a whim – in case she caught wind of something important regarding wizard activity that he needed to know immediately, before any media frenzy could begin.

The message was chilling in its simplicity:

**Call me. Now.**

A quick peek to verify his magical portrait was asleep, he stood up and walked over to the window to look out – to prevent lipreading from security camera footage. He dialed her number. Connie picked up before the second ring.

_'Oh thank God you're not in a meeting.'_

Anthony frowned. He knew that tone of voice and he didn't like it.

'Hello Connie, what's the emergency?'

She took a deep breath.

_'I'm not sure if you'd necessarily qualify this as an emergency, but it's definitely bad. Very, very bad. You'll probably hear the reports soon, but I thought I'd give you the chance to contact whoever you've got to contact while you have the chance.'_

"What do you mean?"

_'You remember Avebury? We spent a weekend there one summer, oh three years ago or so: stone circles, lovely manor house, big white horse?'_

"Um... yes, I remember it. Lovely little village as I recall."

_'Not anymore. As of some point in time last night, it's a ghost town. All the buildings are intact, phones and electricity still work, pets are all accounted for, but every single person? Gone to the last."_

Anthony's eyes widened. This was much bolder than anything the evil wizards had done before.

"Bloody hell. Don't know how the wizards are going to manage to cover this one up." He winced at how callous that sounded. "Are there any signs at all as to what happened to the people?"

_'Not from what I've been able to overhear so far. It looks like everyone just suddenly vanished. And the wizards had better get here quick if they're going to so much as get access to the scene, because so far it's just local authorities, but I'm pretty sure more media will turn up within the hour if not sooner.'_

Anthony frowned.

"How did you get there so fast?"

Connie chuckled.

_'I've got my own police scanner. Although honestly, I'd figured out something was wrong before the authorities did because of a rather suspicious influx of twitter and facebook posts about Avebury residents missing work, being late for meetings... that sort of thing. However, not one single Avebury resident has posted anything since about one in the morning.'_

"What have you been doing, scouring every single twitter post in the country?!"

_'Ha! No sorry, I'm good, but even I need to eat and sleep and do actual work. I've been keeping an eye on several key twitter posts and doing searches on anything to do with magic and activity in magically-active areas. Avebury was a logical choice. Its stone circles have been historically linked to possible pagan rituals and are extensively used by modern-day neo-pagan groups for their own rituals. It'd be a perfect place to go have a real magical ritual you didn't want people to know about. The local residents wouldn't likely know the difference.'_

"Makes sense, I suppose." He signed and ran a hand through his hair. "Damn, this just makes things even more complicated. Well, thank you for letting me know about this. You're right, I do have a few people I need to contact."

_'You're welcome. So, when can I expect to meet them? You realize you all owe me for this.'_

"Yes, I do. I'm afraid I can't speak for the wizards and, quite frankly, I'd rather not tell them about you at all. But I'll ask Rupert to look for you."

_'Rupert? That's all you're going to give me: a first name?'_

"Sorry, Connie. They may not be wizards, but they're not exactly in the public light either. I'll try to convince them to talk to you, though. Apparently, they were all very impressed with some of your earlier reporting, so they might very well be interested in meeting you anyway."

_'Well, then thank you in advance. Oh, there's the detective, I've got to go!'_

"Good luck, Connie."

_'You too.'_

She hung up and Anthony pocketed the phone. He looked at the clock. 11:48.

He walked out of his office and strolled up to his secretary. Shacklebolt had turned around when he heard the door opening. Anthony leaned over a bit to talk to him with minimal chance of being overheard.

"Take an early lunch," he said quietly. The dark-skinned wizard frowned. "Use it to go and contact your superiors or whomever it is that you need to. They need to go to Avebury. Something happened there last night and now every single person living in the village has disappeared without a trace. There's no way magic wasn't involved and very soon, it's going to become a media circus."

Kingsley Shacklebolt's eyes widened. Then he nodded.

"I understand," he said after a slight pause. "Then I'll see you in an hour, Prime Minister."

Anthony nodded. He didn't bother staying to watch him leave, instead heading straight to his office to call Rupert Giles, who listened to his story in silence, before cursing viciously under his breath.

_'It seems we don't have much time then.'_

"Much time for what?" Anthony asked him, instinctively feeling like he didn't actually want his question answered.

_'Before Voldemort begins the final stage of his plans. If he hasn't already. Ever since we got up this morning, we've been feeling something off. It's been like this for a while, but this morning it suddenly seems to have gotten worse and we're not entirely sure what it means. I have a feeling local police will be dealing with a lot more violence than usual. And it's only going to get worse.'_

"Is there something I – as in the government – can do?"

_'Other than ensure the police are out in numbers and with back-up? I'm afraid not really. We're meeting with the Order of the Phoenix in about an hour to discuss how to strengthen our wards with their magic and their wards with ours. In the meantime, I'll send out someone out to Avebury.'_

"And could you have them look up Connie? It is thanks to her that we have the information this early in the first place..."

There was a pause on the other end.

_'Yes, alright, I'll have them do that. I suppose she'll also be the best source of information about what's going on anyway.'_

Anthony breathed a sigh of relief.

"I'd also hate to alienate her when we might need her and her instinct for information gathering in the future."

_'Hm, yes that too, I suppose.'_

They hung up shortly afterwards and Anthony pocketed the cellphone. He then called Norman's secretary to find out if his finance minister was in his office, before doing the same with the opposition leader and the minister of the home office.

* * *

With one, final flick of his wand, Remus finished his portion of the warding spell. He took a deep breath and took a step back. To his right, he could see Alastor still casting, weaving Remus' portion together with the one Minerva was casting on the other side of the house and adding his own spell to the mass. Several metres behind him, Willow sat cross-legged on the grass, her eyes closed and palms touching the grassy lawn.

It took Alastor a few minutes more to finish and then he, too, stepped back from the house. He turned to look at the young red-head behind him.

"We're done," he stated.

"Hmm," she answered. "It seems to be settling together nicely: no fighting, no rejection, steady flow... Okay, we're good!"

She opened her eyes and grinned. Alastor nodded to her. Remus smiled, glad to be done. Casting full-house wards was difficult enough at the best of times, casting it around a house that already had wards on it was that much trickier, but casting wards around a house whose existing wards were completely different, redefined 'tricky' and added twice the amount of concentration and sweat. They'd done it, though, and now the Watcher's Council had a new set of wizarding wards protecting it.

Remus pocketed his wand and went to join Mad-Eye and Willow. Buffy also came forward, away from the tree, whose shade she'd been leaning against as she'd watched the wizards work. She took a small item out of her pocket and pocked at it, before bringing it to her ear.

"They're done out here and Wills says everything's good," she said after a few moments. "You're good to go."

She took it away from her ear and touched it, before joining them.

"Okay, so Andrew's gonna go ahead with the locating spell now," she said.

"That is rather useful," said Alastor, his eyes on the small object in Buffy's hand.

"What, the cell?" She held it up questioningly and Remus could now see a small screen on the front of it with the time in big, bold print over a picture of a handsome man in a suit and tie. "Yeah, don't know what I did before I had one. Based on what Draco's been telling us, communications is the one place we have you totally beat."

Alastor's reply was some sort of a grunt, which could've possibly a reluctant agreement. Buffy smirked at him. He turned away to greet Minerva as she, too, came to join them.

"Everything went well, I take it?" she asked.

"Yup, everything's all hunky-dory," Willow answered with a beaming smile. "My wards around the property are holding steady and the new ones are settling in around the house just fine."

"Excellent! I'd certainly hate to have to redo it all again."

Remus grimaced, mentally agreeing with her.

"Thanks so much for doing this," said Willow, looking at each of them in turn.

"You're very welcome, Ms. Rosenberg," said Minerva.

"Don't worry, we'll get our own back when you do the ones at Hogwarts," said Alastor.

Remus chuckled. "You know it hardly seems fair, Hogwarts is so much bigger than your house."

Willow just shrugged. "It's not really more complicated to do a large area like that as opposed to a small one, just takes more power."

"It's why we're letting Andrew do the locating spell," Buffy added. "Wills needs to conserve her energy for doing your wards."

Remus nodded. Although he hadn't really had much opportunity to talk with Willow about her powers, he had gathered she actively used the magic within her in a much more immediate way than wizards did. Wands helped a wizard control and focus his magic, but it also helped prevent magical exhaustion, because a certain amount of magic was required to flow into the wand in order for the wand to function as anything more than a nicely-shaped stick. Which meant that a wizard couldn't use so much magical energy that they were in mortal danger.

Every creature has a limited amount of energy and a wand prevented a wizard from going beyond that limit. Willow didn't use a wand, which meant she didn't have that control. He understood her care to not over-exert herself if that was the case.

Although, there had been a few comments Dawn had made...

Suddenly, he realized the group was starting to make their way inside. He shook his head and followed as they lead the way into the kitchen through the back door.

"Anyone want anything to drink?" Willow called.

"Some tea would be fabulous, thank you," Minerva called back. Remus and Alastor nodded their agreement and Willow went to put the kettle on with a smile.

Buffy, meanwhile poured herself a glass of orange juice from the refrigerator.

"So, what happened to miss pretend-Tonks?" Buffy asked Alastor.

Remus sucked in a sharp breath, feeling like the wound he'd just barely managed to pull together last night was beginning to bleed again. He closed his eyes as the wolf inside him growled, his hearing suddenly becoming sharper even from the other side of the room. As though the wolf wanted to know, who it needed to tear apart to avenge his lover's death. The worst part was that Remus would be lying if he said he wanted different.

"The young woman pretending to be Nymphadora Tonks is an auror, who'd been assigned to the detail stationed at Hogwarts after your sister and Draco Malfoy arrived there with their demon companion," Alastor answered Buffy. "Her name is Rachael Windemere. We confirmed the dark mark on her arm and then interrogated her with the veritas serum."

"Veritas serum?" Willow asked. "Is that some sort of truth potion?"

"Yes. It compels the drinker to answer any questions posed and renders them unable to lie."

"Cool," said Buffy. "Must make getting answers out of a prisoner so much easier."

"Unless they've cut out their tongues," said a voice from the doorway. Remus turned to where Dawn was leaning against the doorframe.

"Cut out their tongues?" Minerva asked, looking slightly ill.

"Yup. Thankfully, we found a spell that helped with that, but still." She turned motioned to Alastor. "Sorry to interrupt, go on, I can wait."

"She didn't know much," Alastor continued with a scowl. "However, she is the one, who informed You-Know-Who about Severus's betrayal. Also-" He looked pointedly at Buffy. "-Ms. Summers, she'd been there for your arrival at Hogwarts."

Buffy nodded.

"So, that means Voldy knows me and the Watcher's Council are involved now," she said thoughtfully.

"And, more to the point, the Circle of the Black Thorne does," Willow added. "Assuming that's really who's helping Mr. Big Bad."

"You know, maybe that's why they tried to kill Buffy," Dawn suddenly said. All eyes turned to her.

"What do you mean?" Minerva asked.

"Well, think about it, there aren't a whole lot of people out there, who know anything about ascension, let alone have actually seen it happen and lived to tell about it. Willow actually got a look at the Books of Ascension too. Which would make us one of the only people in the world, who'd not only recognize the ritual, but also be willing to help you. 'Cause I have no doubt there are others, who'd know about this, but most of them wouldn't likely care if Voldemort did take over the human world. More like take advantage of the situation for themselves. Buffy coming to London when she did in order to look for me probably put one hell of a kink in their plans."

Minerva nodded, seeing where the girl was going with this.

"Of course, because when she found you, she also found us," the deputy headmistress said in understanding.

"You know, I've thought about it and I don't think the Circle was working with Voldemort yet when I was there. They'd have recognized my name, or at least the name 'Summers'. Plus, Draco would've at least glimpsed them at some point since the bad guys are sort of all camped out in his home. Although, they could've been helping him in other ways... Anyway, the point is, they probably wanted Buffy out of the way to minimize the chances of us all meeting."

"Which means _you_ were the kink in their plan," Remus pointed out.

Dawn grinned.

"So did pretend-Tonks say anything else?" Buffy asked after a pause.

Alastor shook his head.

"Just a lot of rubbish about how we're going to lose and the Dark Lord will subjugate all Muggles and the like. She did confirm that he's got some sort of big plan he hasn't shared with his followers involving a potion and that a group of four powerful individuals approached him several weeks ago with the desire to join him. Unfortunately, she's apparently been spending most of her time working as an auror, waiting for the right time to grab someone to impersonate."

"When?" Remus asked, his voice hoarse. He cleared his throat and met Alastor's eyes. "When did she take Tonks?"

There was sympathy in the veteran auror's eyes. "Shortly after the group was stationed at Hogwarts."

Remus closed his eyes, willing away his tears. It meant he likely hadn't seen Tonks herself since before the attack in Diagon Alley.

"Remus, I'm so sorry," said Minerva, before enveloping her former student in an embrace.

Remus relaxed into the hug for a few moments, relishing the comfort from the woman, who was once his teacher and was now his friend. When he felt like he could once again face the world, he stepped away from her and she let him.

"Thank you, Minerva," he said with a weak smile.

"Sorry to be the bearer of even more bad news, but Andrew's not having much luck with the locating spell."

Remus turned to the doorway, where Lori now stood beside Dawn. She cast him a sympathetic smile.

"Is it not working?" Willow asked with a frown and Lori turned to her.

"Oh, it's working," she answered her. "He's just not finding anything. And Draco thinks he's just remembered something about the Dark Lord receiving a powerful ward as a gift from a sympathetic admirer or something to that extent."

"That doesn't sound good," Buffy said.

Suddenly, a loud music-like noise rang out from the general direction of her pocket. She took out her cellphone and looked at the screen, before answering it.

"Hey Giles, how goes it at town Disappearing Act?" she said as she walked out of the room – presumably so that she could concentrate on her own conversation.

"Maybe we should go check up on Andrew in the meantime," said Willow.

She handed the wizards their tea and then they all headed to join this mysterious Andrew, who'd apparently arrived last night with slayer re-enforcements. All Remus knew about him was that he helped Buffy run the watcher's council house in Rome and had a significant knowledge of magic and a certain degree of power, though nothing close to rivaling Willow.

The man turned out to be much younger than he'd expected him to be. The only watchers he'd met so far had been Giles and Lori – though, in retrospect, he supposed Dawn was sort of a watcher as well – so the young, floppy-haired man, who was sitting on the floor in front of a map of England, was a bit of a surprise.

"Willow, I swear, I have no idea why this isn't working!" he whined (yes, there was a definite whine in his voice). "I've done locating spells before and I'm finding other magical areas, but not the one we're looking for."

Remus stepped up to the map and looked at it. The map was peppered with spots of light of varying size and brightness. He frowned, trying to remember exactly what Buffy had said Andrew was looking for. It wasn't until he noticed the large, though dim spot of light in the middle of Scotland next to a smaller, brighter spot that he realized what he was looking at.

By Minerva's gasp, she'd also just figured it out.

"That's incredible!" she said.

Andrew looked up and blinked, as though only now realizing there were more people in the room. Willow grinned proudly.

"This is how Spike, Connor and Illyria found Hogwarts," she said. "We found some information that pointed to Scotland and then figured this big blurry magical blip could possibly be a hidden magic school."

"That's not just impressive," Alastor said quietly with a deep frown. "That should be impossible. Hogwarts is enchanted to be unplottable."

Willow frowned thoughtfully.

"But we're not looking for Hogwarts," Andrew spoke up. "The locator spell I did was to find powerful magic. It's like, I can see where the force is being used and how much of it is being used, but I can't tell if it's Luke Skywalker battling the forces of the empire, or the Emperor hiding a Death Star."

Remus blinked at him.

"That makes sense," said Willow with a thoughtful nod. She caught the incredulous stares from the three wizards beside her and winced. "What Andrew means, is that the locator spell hasn't actually found Hogwarts the castle, but rather the enchantments that are keeping it unplottable. Well, those plus all the other wards and magic in the school itself. I was wondering why it looked so blurry and vague even though the spot was so big; it's probably the unplottable spell trying to keep the castle unplottable."

"I see," Minerva looked worried. "I suppose there's not much we can truly do to guard against such spells..."

"It's not like You-Know-Who doesn't know where to find the school," Remus added reasonably.

"Actually, there might be a way to protect an area from being detected by a spell like this," Willow said thoughtfully.

"Which brings us to our problem," Lori interrupted. When she had everyone's attention, she pointed to the map. "Now, we know the Malfoy Manor is in Wiltshire. However, if you look at the map, there is nothing powerful enough to be the a manor in which Lord Voldemort has settled. We can see Avebury, and a few other pockets of magic, but no Malfoy Manor."

She waited for everyone to see what she was talking about, before beckoning Draco forward. Remus hadn't even noticed the boy leaning against the far wall. He was dressed as a muggle and his hair wasn't pulled back as harshly as he'd had it the last time Remus had seen him at Hogwarts. In true Malfoy fashion, he wore the clothes and style with complete comfort, as though he'd always worn muggle clothes. Remus hid a small smile; it seemed young Draco was indeed acclimatizing well.

"Now, when we realized there was nothing wrong with the spell," Lori continued, "but we still couldn't locate the manor, Draco here suddenly remembered something from before he and Dawn escaped."

She motioned to Draco and the boy nodded before taking up his end of the explanation.

"It was before my mother d-died," he began. "I'm not really sure about the particulars, but I know it had something to do with Constantine LeBeau finding someone, who was sympathetic to the Dark Lord. She'd given him some sort of old ward designed to hide magical things or, I suppose, places. I remember father describing it as a series of statuettes that had to be set around the manor in a certain order. I've seen the central one and it's in the ballroom."

"Wow," said Willow. "Okay, I've read about those. They're really powerful and super rare."

"And totally explains why you had so much trouble with the locator spell when you were looking for Dawn," Buffy said as she walked into the room.

"Yeah, totally," Willow agreed. "So, what's the what with Giles?"

"Giles says there was definitely some sort of powerful magic done there last night, but nothing he recognizes. According to Connor, the whole village reeks of magic and, oddly enough, rain. Like a really powerful storm passed by the area, but there's nothing in the weather reports for the area."

"Weird," Dawn commented.

"The whole thing is beyond weird. Mr. Weasley's stumped and so are the aurors Connor's been eavesdropping on. They met up with Connie Price, who's been able to confirm that the police haven't found a single living person, but they also haven't found anyone dead or any blood or signs of a fight or anything. Doors locked from the inside and everything. So, yeah, beyond weird."

"Something like that would require some serious mojo," said Andrew into the silence that followed.

"Yeah, definitely," said Willow. She looked to the wizards. "I've never seen anything like it, is there a wizard spell that could do something like this?"

Minerva shook her head.

"If there is, I've certainly never heard tell of it," she said.

"Though You Know Who does seem to have a talent for finding old, obscure spells that haven't been used for a very long time,"Alastor said thoughtfully.

Minerva sighed.

"Sadly, that is very true."

"Well, I suppose this means we'll all be getting even more intimately acquainted with the library," said Dawn brightly. Draco groaned.

"I'll also ask Anora if she can ask her father if he has any thoughts on the matter," Lori said thoughtfully. "He might know of some private collections that have what we need."

"And we'll, of course, scour the restricted section of the Hogwarts Library," said Remus.

"Perhaps it would be wise to leave that in Miss Granger's capable and currently unoccupied hands, while we figure out how to get into the Malfoy Manor undetected so that we may foil this ascension of his," said Minerva.

"Oh Merlin!" Draco suddenly gasped, his eyes wide with realization.

"Draco, what is it?" Buffy asked.

"I just realized what my father was telling me in his message!" Draco's voice was breathy with the excitement.

"What do you mean?" Dawn asked with a frown.

"Do you mean, there was more to the message then the obvious?" Remus added.

"Yes. I thought there was something odd about how he specifically felt the need to tell me I was still his son and heir and always would be." He smirked at the room, his old arrogance reasserting itself in his posture. "What he means is that I haven't been cast out of the wards. _I_ can get into the manor through _all_ of its entrances."

"Including the ones the Ministry and You-Know-Who don't know about, no doubt," Alastor Moody growled and Draco blanched slightly at the twinkle of excitement in the auror's eyes.

"Secret passageways?" said Buffy with a grin. "Cool! I am sooo up for secret passageways."

"Xander will love it," said Willow.

Alastor cleared his throat.

"Well, I'll leave you to figure out the rest of the arrangements," he said. "I should head to Avebury now and join the auror contingent. I'll see some of you tonight at Hogwarts."

"Indeed," Minerva nodded. "'Till then, Alastor. And good luck."

Alastor grunted a reply as he left to find a place to apparate from.

* * *

The death eaters standing by the doors clutched their wands and backed away, their hands trembling as the entourage entered the room. Lord Voldemort's hands tightened around the armrests of his throne. He watched Lord Belzak and his minions approach with a neutral expression, refusing to let the Circle of the Black Thorne see any weakness in him.

A small part of him wondered whether allying himself with them in his search for power had been a mistake. Another, larger part – the part that had spent hours pouring over the books he'd been gifted – knew the power they offered was real and that once he had that power, he could easily foil whatever alternate plans the Circle had.

Perhaps they were looking for a new member into their fold. Though, after McNab's display of power last night, he rather doubted it. As much as Lord Voldemort refused to be impressed by the flaky-looking man, he could hardly help himself when a storm cloud passed over the manor and, in a clap of loud thunder, deposited an entire village's population into what used to be the dragon pens. They were currently wandering about within them in a dream-like haze.

As a result, Voldemort now realized he was dealing with individuals that were more powerful than he'd originally given them credit for. He watched warily as Lord Belzak approached, two large demons with thick, dark green skin and a single, small horn protruding out of the middle of their foreheads, surrounded by prominent ridges. Their bright yellow eyes looked over the humans in the room with a malicious gleam.

Voldemort watched with amusement as more of his death eaters backed away from them. A few – most notably Rabastan Lestrange and Avery - met them with sneers of their own as they tightened their holds on their wands.

One of the demons carried a black iron box, which was locked at the top with a silver lock. As they came closer, the Dark Lord could faintly make out engraved runes running along the bottom edge and several holes drilled along the top. The second demon carried a much smaller box made of ordinary, Muggle cardboard.

Lord Belzak stopped and nodded his head in a gesture of greeting. Then he motioned to the demon with the iron box.

"I have brought the necessary items for the first part of the ritual," he announced in his deep, rumbling voice. "If you truly wish to go through with it, then you should not delay. Dermain's spies have brought us information that the Slayer is gathering her forces together."

The Dark Lord snorted. "I hardly think a mere Muggle is much of a threat, no matter how many allies she has. And a few vampires and one demon are not what I'd call an insurmountable force."

Belzak narrowed his eyes at him, the piercing intensity of his gaze more than making up for the demon lord's lack of stature.

"While it is true she has no magical power, Buffy Summers has proven herself as nothing less than a determined force. Do _not_ underestimate her."

Voldemort frowned, but said nothing. Then he nodded, accepting the warning. He would think upon it later.

Looking away, he raised his wand and levitated a chair that had been sitting against the wall to his left and placed it down in front of him, before transfiguring it into a table. At an order from Lord Belzak in a tongue unrecognized by the wizards, the demon guards stepped forward and placed the boxes on the table.

Then the demon lord stepped forward and handed Lord Voldemort a heavy, silver key covered in engravings that clearly served a magical, rather than decorative, purpose. The wizard examined it closely for a few moments, somewhat impressed by the craftsmanship. Then he pushed it into the lock on the iron box and turned.

A golden light from within illuminated the engravings along the bottom of the box for a few moments. The lock fell open and Lord Voldemort removed it, setting it aside. He then lifted the heavy lid and peered inside.

Shiny, round bodies crawled over each other within the shadows of the box. Lord Voldemort watched them for a few moments, excitement filling his body with a thrum of energy; the beginning of his victory was here, before his eyes.

"Scarab beetles," he commented thoughtfully. "The Egyptian symbol for renewing life." He shrugged. "I suppose I should be glad I'm not required to consume a phoenix. Why twelve?"

"Three is a perfect number. Four is a perfect square. There are four levels to the Egyptian underworld, with three versions of Egypt in each and the third level is where the dead remain. You are aiming beyond that."

The Dark Lord nodded. His short association with the members of the Circle of the Black Thorne had certainly awakened a curiosity within him to the possibilities beyond wizarding magic. It was certainly something to explore once his power was complete and he'd conquered the Wizarding World. He was rather looking forward to it.

His gaze wandered to the small, cardboard box sitting innocuously to the right of its iron brother.

"And the smaller box?" he asked.

"Condiments."

Voldemort blinked. Lord Belzak stared back at him impassively.

* * *

Hermione Granger stared at Willow Rosenberg as the redheaded witch layered her own wards on top of the existing ones at Hogwarts. She'd never seen anything like it. The muggle witch had simply walked onto the grounds, taken her shoes off and sat down cross-legged on the grass. Nothing had happened for a while as she apparently centered herself and reached for her magic – at least that was how Buffy had described it.

Then she'd simply reached down and placed her palms flat onto the ground in front of her. It was gradual, but slowly a web of light – of magic – spread out from Willow and began to encompass the grounds. Once it touched the outer perimeter of the grounds, it began to rearrange itself and Hermione gaped as the light surrounding the castle began to spread upwards, until it became a dome of magical webbing.

"Incredible," she heard Firenze whisper.

The centaur had come out to watch Willow work, saying he could feel the difference in the aura surrounding her and was curious about it. Hermione turned to ask him what he meant by that and caught a glimpse of the redhead in the process. She gasped. Willow was _glowing_.

"She is taking magic directly from the earth and molding it," Firenze continued.

"I've truly never seen the like," Professor McGonagall added. Beside her, Mad-Eye Moody was diligently taking it all in, his eye swirling around faster than Hermione had ever seen it before.

"I'd love to see what she'd be capable of in battle," Charlie Weasley commented.

"No," said Firenze. All eyes turned to him for an explanation. He looked at them with sad eyes. "Her magic shines brilliantly, but I can sense darkness equally powerful lurking just beneath."

"Willow won't be joining the fight unless we're desperate," a new voice joined them. It was Buffy Summers. She was watching her friend with a sad look. "Willow's tasted the darkest of dark magics and used anger to fuel her power. It's heady and addictive and maybe she might be able to use it to defeat Voldy, maybe not."

She then turned and met each of their eyes in turn, her own hard and unyielding.

"We got lucky last time. This time, maybe not so much. Even if Willow did defeat Voldewarts, there's no way of knowing for sure that we wouldn't be left with something even worse."

Hermione had heard similar words from Dawn before she'd even met Willow. Now she finally understood them.

"The girl's been under the influence of the Hellmouth for too long," Moody suddenly commented.

Buffy nodded.

"An active hellmouth is dangerous for magic users. We learned that too late."

"It's why wizarding schools never take in children from their vicinity," Professor McGonagall added. Then she shrugged. "I've been doing some research of my own."

"Blimey, this looks incredible!"

"Hey, Buffy, I thought Willow was going to cast an armor ward like what the Immortal has around his villa."

Buffy turned to Andrew as he approached with Harry, Ron, Remus and his band of slayers. Ron and Harry were looking around at the dome surrounding the castle grounds in awe.

"She changed her mind; said this would work better."

"Huh."

"So, how'd the uninvite spell go?"

"Like a slicing an orange with a light saber."

"Ookaay..."

"I can't believe how easy it was," said Harry. He and Ron had decided to help perform the charm instead of watching Willow. "I mean, it didn't seem to take any magic at all."

"I think it's because it's a charm that uses pre-existing, natural magic and magical laws, instead of taking magic from the caster," said Remus thoughtfully. "Although I have no way to prove that unless someone were to actually monitor individual magic levels as the spell was being cast."

"Which could disrupt the spell itself," said McGonagall.

"Exactly."

"So, how exactly do we know that the spell worked?" Ron asked.

Buffy shrugged. "We've done it a couple times before and it's always worked."

"I suppose this is one of those times where having a vampire on your side comes in handy," said Charlie.

Buffy snorted at the comment, but didn't say anything. Instead, she let Andrew take up the explanation of just why Spike was with them and his many noble and courageous deeds. Her mind was full of the upcoming battle. She knew how things had to go down, but that didn't mean she had to like it. A small part of her hoped the wizards would have a few suggestions, something she hadn't thought of, to make it possible to do things differently, but the larger part of her knew that for the pipe dream it was.

And then there was the conversation with Dawn that she'd been putting off having for way too long.

Despite being lost in thought, she noticed the moment the magic lighting up the Hogwarts perimeter began to fade. She looked to Willow, who was sweating as though she'd just run a marathon, but looked calm and content, which told Buffy the wards were successfully in place. It took about ten more minutes for the light to fade completely.

Then Willow finally opened her eyes and grinned happily. Buffy grinned back and went over to help her friend stand.

"Oh wow," said Willow as Buffy gripped her, giving her time for her shaky legs to regain mobility again. "That was intense; the grounds are huge and there's so much natural magic here from the land itself, plus from all the magic that's saturated the area from so much of it being done here and all. It was a bit distracting at first, but I used it to tie the wards better to the land, 'cause it made them stronger and used less of my magic..."

Buffy laughed.

"Breathe, Wills," she said. "Whatever you did, it looked super-impressive and all sorts of shiny."

"It was indeed impressive," Moody added. "If you have any literature on how this was done, I'd love to take a look."

"Oh, um, I've got a few books back at the Watcher's Council," said Willow. "I'm sure Giles wouldn't mind if you came by to take a look."

Buffy giggled at the man. He looked like he was mentally rubbing his hands with glee.

"Well, now that that's done, I believe we have about an hour before Mister Giles and his group are due to arrive via portkey," Professor McGonagall said loudly enough to be heard over all the individual conversations. "Would anyone care for some refreshments in the meantime?"

"Sounds good to me," said Willow, who looked like she needed said refreshments rather badly.

No one had any objections, so they slowly headed back to the school. Madame Pomfrey met them in the library, several tomes already open in front of her. She immediately began to fuss over Willow, forcing the redhead to sit down beside her. Once the tea and food arrived and Willow began eating, the school nurse finally relaxed.

And went to grab her next victim. Harry Potter reluctantly allowed her to run several scans on him. Willow couldn't help but become curious about the process.

"What are you scanning for?" she asked the nurse as Madame Pomfrey wrote down the results of the last test.

"I'm trying to ascertain just how deeply the horcurx is embedded inside Mister Potter," she answered. She looked back to Harry, who paled at hearing her confirm what he'd already guessed. "All right, Mister Potter, you may go get something to eat now. I'll call you over if I need anything else."

Willow craned her neck to read Madame Pomfrey's notes.

"Would you like some help with this?" she asked, looking up at the nurse.

Madame Pomfrey smirked.

"I was rather hoping you'd ask, my dear," she said. "I'd like to hear exactly how the spell you used to find the horcrux in the first place actually worked."

Willow nodded and took another sip of her tea before beginning her explanations.

* * *

General Tanya Baker looked up at the knock on her door. She glanced at the clock and frowned, wondering who it could possibly be. She'd sent her secretary home over an hour ago.

"Come in!" she called out.

The door tentatively opened and a small man wearing a light gray suit stepped in. The goatee made him instantly recognizable as Joseph Montgomery, the Royal Opposition's finance critic. He was carrying a manila file folder in his tan-coloured gloves (the general had no doubt they were made of lamb skin).

"Ah, good evening, general," the man said with a light smile and a voice that sounded like it should've come from a man twice his size. "I'd heard you've been keeping some rather late hours the past two weeks; I'm glad to see my information wasn't wrong."

"Mister Montgomery," she greeted with a nod. "What can I do for you?"

"Oh, nothing really, you'd requested a report from our defense critic. Lester said it was urgent and as I'm meeting my wife for dinner just around the corner, I offered to drop it off on my way."

"I see. Well, thank you for your help then."

General Baker stood as she accepted the file folder from Montgomery. She opened the folder and skimmed the first paragraph. Satisfied it was the correct report, she placed it onto the pile of papers decorating the corner of her desk. She'd look it over first thing in the morning.

"You're very welcome, general. I'll be on my way then. The reservations are for eight and I really shouldn't be late."

"Enjoy your dinner, Mister Montgomery."

"Thank you, I shall. Have a good evening, general."

Joseph Montgomery closed the door after him as he exited General Baker's office. Keeping his face carefully neutral, he then walked down a level, where he entered the restrooms. As expected, they were deserted this late in the evening. Waiting until the door swung shut behind him, he slipped off his leather gloves and threw them into the covered garbage dispenser, before crossing to the sink and washing his hands. He threw the wet paper towel on top of the gloves so they were no longer visible from the top.

Thankfully, cleaners never paid any attention to what was in the garbage bags they emptied in restrooms.

He walked out of the restroom and proceeded to leave the building. Putting Big Ben at his back, he walked casually away. A few minutes later, he took out his cellphone and dialed. It was picked up on the second ring.

_'Mister Montgomery, I trust you've had no problems?'_

"No, none. It is done. I think she was a bit suspicious, but not nearly enough. Took the file without hesitation."

_'Excellent. You are on your way home now?'_

"Actually, I'm meeting my wife for dinner at a nearby restaurant. She's been sighing over photos of Venice again, so I'm taking her out for some relaxed, open-air Italian dinning."

_'A splendid idea, Mister Montgomery. Enjoy your evening then.'_

"Thank you, Mister Knight. You do the same."

He hung up and slipped the phone into his pocket. He looked up at the lovely blue sky and smiled. Things were going well, after all. General Tanya Baker was dead the moment she'd taken the file folder, which was laced with a slow-acting contact poison specially designed by Wolfram and Hart from some sort of demon flower pollen. It also dissipated into the air, so by the morning it would be completely inert and harmlessly.

And General Baker would be dead, leaving the Prime Minister without a commander-in-chief of the military, who was in on whatever was going on.

As he tried to guess just where the general's body would be discovered, Joseph Montgomery made his way to meet his wife and acquire himself an alibi.

* * *

"Hey, Dawn, wanna get some fresh air?"

Dawn blinked tiredly and then looked up at Buffy, who had the beginnings of dark circles under her eyes, but was vibrating with anxious energy. She narrowed her eyes at her sister and sat up straighter. Dawn knew Buffy, had seen her before a big battle, knew how to recognize the anxious energy of anticipation, when Buffy was on edge, because the Slayer was looking forward to the fight.

Which is why Dawn could tell her sister was nervous about something.

"Um, sure," she finally answered. She really, really hoped this wasn't going to be about Buffy trying to talk Dawn out of her part in the next day's battle. Her sister _should_ remember how that turned out last time.

Dawn stood up and followed her sister down the hall and through the kitchen. Buffy didn't stop until they were standing alone in the middle of the backyard, where the slayers usually did their outdoor training exercises. Behind the cover of clouds, Dawn could see the bright orange globe of the sun as it set for the day. Buffy still hadn't turned to her.

"Buffy?" Dawn asked.

Buffy took a deep breath and turned to face her sister. Dawn frowned in confusion. The nervousness was more pronounced now, and beneath it, Dawn could see fear.

"Dawn," Buffy said. "There's something I need to tell you. I, uh, really should've told you a while ago, but it's just, well, I guess it's just been so easy to put off and now I kinda hate myself 'cause it's so not fair to dump this on you on the day before D Day, but you also really need to know in case stuff happens and..."

"Buffy, stop!" Dawn interrupted her, panicked. "We've been here before, odds against us and all. Draco will do his bit and get us into the Manor. Then my group will do our bit and you, the slayers and the Order of the Phoenix will take it from there. I'll bet Andrew and his slayers will spend the entire day being really bored and wishing they weren't playing guard dogs to a magical castle, 'cause they want in on the fun! And Faith? Well, you've already heard Faith's opinion on her babysitting gig."

Dawn took a deep breath, closing her eyes as she calmed her suddenly shattered nerves. When she opened her eyes, they were sharp as swords and shining with determination.

"You are not going to die and neither am I."

Suddenly, Dawn was being enveloped in a tight embrace. She grabbed Buffy and held on just as hard. Neither one of them was going to mention how ridiculously fickle such a statement was. Denial was a lovely river and they were both going to allow it to flourish magnificently for as long as possible.

Eventually, Buffy let go and stepped back. Her eyes were glistening with unshed tears and Dawn was sure hers weren't any better.

"Nice speech," her sister said with a smile. "But that's not where I was going with that."

"Oh. It wasn't?"

"Nope." Buffy looked away and then took a deep breath, before looking back and meeting Dawn's eyes. "You know Phythia? The crazy demon prophet everyone's been meeting in strange places?"

Dawn nodded, surprised by the question.

"I've met her too."

Dawn's eyes widened. "What? But you never said anything. Not when you were talking to the wizards, not even to me! If you met her then why didn't you-?"

"Because her message to me was different."

"Huh? Different how?"

Buffy was silent for a few minutes. Just as Dawn was getting ready to smack her out of her stupor, she finally spoke.

"You know she calls herself an Ancient, right?"

"Yeah. She's the one, 'who alone the tale can tell'."

"Which means that if we assume Illyria and Azazella are the first two Ancients, then we're still missing the fourth. And according to what she told Azazella, Phythia won't join the Ancients until the other three are together."

"Which is great, except that we don't know, who the Fourth Ancient is." Dawn gave her sister a searching look. "Do we?"

Buffy swallowed.

"Yeah, we do. Phythia told me."

"_What_?!" Dawn gaped at her and Buffy didn't quite manage to hide her flinch. "And you didn't think this was important enough to tell anyone?!"

"Giles knows. But I- I couldn't bring myself to tell anyone else." She looked back to Dawn, her eyes begging her to understand. "I know I can't keep you from the battle. I know you don't need me to protect you, not really, not anymore. And I guess that's why I'm here, telling you this. 'Cause the last time you were a kid, but now you're a strong, young woman and it's _hard_, but I know I need to recognize that."

To Dawn it was as though someone had magically replaced her blood with frozen red slushie, because suddenly she felt cold, frozen to the spot and unable to turn away. She should be happy that Buffy was acknowledging her as a strong and capable young woman, but her pride was eclipsed by everything her sister hadn't said yet.

When Buffy continued talking, it was in a whisper Dawn could only just make out.

"You don't need me to protect you anymore. That's what she said." A tear slid down Buffy's cheek. "When things calmed down after Glory, we were so happy it was all over – and, well, I was dead and then after coming back I had other things on my mind anyway. But, I mean, none of us ever stopped to wonder, we ignored what should've been a huge honkin' elephant in the room, because it had shrunk to a more manageable size and there was always something more important to deal with."

Another pause. Dawn almost wanted to tell her sister to stop talking.

"We knew so very little about the Key and now, it turns out, we knew even less than we thought we did."

Dawn sobbed.

"No," she whispered, wide-eyed and shaking. "No, it's not possible. It- I can't... I _can't_ be..."

"Power from the lake will make her awake.

Her wings will spread, her scales will arm,

and the Fourth she will become."

Dawn's legs chose that moment to become jelly. She let herself sink to the soft grass, now painted a darker green as the sun had finished setting. She grabbed the nearest blades of grass and fisted them, not pulling them out, just holding on - a futile attempt to ground herself.

And then, in a moment of clarity Dawn wouldn't believe herself capable of in that moment, she realized what Buffy hadn't yet told her. She chuckled darkly, her voice sounding unusually husky.

"Wings? Scales?" she asked. She didn't bother looking up at Buffy. "Oh my God, I'm the fucking Dragon."

Buffy knelt down beside her and put her arms around her.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

Dawn let go of the grass and clung to her sister.

"I know," Dawn whispered back.

* * *

Author's Notes:

**Angelina and Stanley** - Totally my own characters. You may have noticed I like creating characters. Also, Angelina was originally just supposed to be a relative of someone who worked for the Watcher's Council... but she had other ideas and suddenly I started wondering what the hell happened to all those girls who were potentials, but never got Chosen.

**Fencing -** Okay, so to hedge off the multiple reviewers I know will pick up on this: no, a fencing sword is not called a rapier. However, Faith doesn't know that until the end of that scene, when Stanley tells her that. In fact, from the little research I've done on the topic, I gather even a sabre is only one of three types of fencing sword, but none of them are called rapiers. The three musketeers used rapiers, fencers do not.

Now, whether or not fencing is at all possible with a broadsword - super-strength or not - is another question entirely and this really is more about Faith applying the basics of fencing (which is done one-handed) to her own sword techniques. I really don't know enough about swordsmanship to try and guess what that would look like and won't be attempting it in the context of this story anyway.

**Joseph Montgomery** – You may remember him from back in chapter 11, where he had lunch with a lawyer from Wolfram and Hart (that would be Mr. Knight) and said he'd help take down the PM. Well, as you can see, he certainly hasn't been forgotten.

Well, hope that was worth the wait! The next chapter will be published in two parts due to length (yes, even I have limits to how long I believe a single posted entry should be). The first part is done, but I won't be posting it until I've finished the second part 'cause I don't particularly feel like having to watch my back for angry readers with machettes. Lol (I hope).

Please review!


	28. Chapter 27 pt 1

****Thanks everyone for reading and reviewing the last chapter. This one here was quite a bit of fun to write and I think it'll be obvious which parts I had the most fun writing, lol. Anyway, thanks a million to **Biblioseros** for betaing!

Disclaimer: Nope, still don't own anything but the plot. And a few OCs.

* * *

**The Prophecy of the Four**

**Chapter 27 –** Ascension part 1

Sophie paused in her clean-up and frowned in confusion at the crisp knock on the back door. She looked up at the kitchen clock; it was nearly midnight. The knock came again. Carefully, she placed the tea towel in her hand onto the countertop and picked up the heavy cast iron skillet from its home on the back burner.

She approached the back door with some trepidation.

"Who's there?" she called out through the door.

"Lieutenant Emmerson with the British Armed forces, ma'am" came the reply, said so softly she could barely hear.

"Sophie, what's going on?" a voice called from behind her.

She turned to look at her husband, Jack, shrugging as she conveyed all her bewilderment with a look.

"It's the military."

"The military?"

As she turned back to the door, she could hear his footsteps coming closer. She unlatched the door and opened it just enough to get a clear view of the young man on her doorstep. He certainly looked like he was in the military: short hair hidden under his uniform hat and wearing what she recognized from her days of dating an officer as a field uniform.

He didn't move as she took him in, giving her time to make sure he was alone. Then he finally took a step forward and nodded in greeting.

"I apologize for calling so late and in such an unorthodox manner," he said. "But I'm afraid the situation at hand requires it. May I come in to explain?"

Sophie exchanged a look with Jack.

"Yes, alright," she said and opened the door wider, stepping back from it. Her grip on the skillet in her hand tightened.

Jack stepped back, leaning casually against the counter next to the knife block. The lieutenant stepped into their kitchen and carefully closed the door behind him, not locking it. He took in their positions with a single glance and Sophie could see amusement pull at the corners of his mouth.

"So, what's this about?" Jack demanded impatiently.

"My apologies, sir. I trust you have heard about what happened in London a week ago?"

Sophie blinked, her mind drawing a blank.

"A lot of things happened in London last week-" Jack began. Suddenly his eyes widened. "Oh. You mean the terrorist attack."

The lieutenant nodded.

"Yes. We have reason to believe the terrorists are using an area nearby as their base camp."

Sophie gasped.

"And you want to know if we've seen anything?" she asked. She looked at Jack and then back to the soldier. "I swear I haven't noticed anything out of the ordinary! Oh my, to think..."

"Why are you doing this in the middle of the night?" Jack asked with a frown.

"Please, you misunderstand me." The lieutenant raised a hand to stop them. "We have all the information we need. I'm here to evacuate you."

He paused, letting the information seep in, before he continued.

"According to the intelligence we've managed to gather, they're planning something big for sometime tomorrow and there's a big likelihood this village will be directly in the path of whatever it is. But we want to hold off as long as possible of alerting them that we're aware of their plans and have counter-measures in place. Which is why we're running the evacuation in this way. Tomorrow we'll have some of our own people populating the village in disguise."

Sophie and Jack stared at the man, not sure what to say. Suddenly, Jack seemed to wake up.

"My mother!" he exclaimed. "She's half-deaf! She'll never hear someone knocking on her back door and anyone sneaking into the house will scare her half to death!"

The lieutenant nodded.

"We were rather hoping for your help," he said. "We only have one team conducting the evacuation within the village itself. A second is standing by at the buses we have prepared for you in case our attempts at keeping the evacuation quiet fails. Any help you can give us in convincing your neighbours to evacuate as well would be appreciated."

Jack nodded.

"Of course," he said. Then he turned to Sophie. "I'll leave the children to you."

Sophie nodded. As Jack left to get his jacket, she turned back to the soldier.

"Where exactly should be go?" she asked. "And what should we bring?"

"The buses are parked next to the school grounds, under those big trees." She nodded, knowing exactly where he meant. She heard Jack re-enter the kitchen. "Don't take the front door. We know this is an inconvenience, but we're asking that everyone please leave their vehicles behind and leave the main roads for people with mobility problems."

"That shouldn't be a problem, the school's not that far away."

"Thankfully, mum's got no problem with movement. She's a spry old bat. Just can't hear worth a damn."

Sophie turned to Jack and met his twinkling eyes.

"Good," said the lieutenant. "Make sure to pack light. Medication, cellphones, something to keep the children occupied with, one change of clothes, but nothing much. You shouldn't be gone for more than a day, two at most. Any more questions?"

Sophie shook her head.

"Then good luck."

With that, the soldier quietly opened the back door and disappeared into the night.

* * *

Connor had never thought of a phone as intimidating. It was a fairly simple electronic device, absolutely nothing demonic about it. In fact, the black plastic phone looked rather innocent as it sat on the small table in the hallway, minding its own business. . .

Connor shook his head. He was being silly. He was the Destroyer, son of Angelus, the Scourge of Europe. He would not be defeated by a mere telephone.

Without any further hesitation, he picked up the phone and pulled a scrap of paper out of his pocket. There was a number written on the scrap. He dialed it. There was a series of clicks on the other end and then he heard it ring.

"Hello?" a female voice answered.

"Hi, Rachel, it's Connor. Is Angel there?"

"Yup, one sec."

There was some shuffling on the other end and some muffled voices.

"Connor?" Angel's voice finally sounded.

"Hey dad."

"Hi. Um, what's up?"

Connor paused briefly, wondering what he should say.

"I - I just wanted to call to, uh, say thanks for arranging for me to stay in England. It's been lots of fun."

"England? You're still in England? I mean, England's great, but I thought you'd be at least in Germany by now."

"Nah, stuff came up. Actually, I did some sightseeing in Scotland. Saw lots of amazing things."

"Oh, okay. Scotland's really beautiful."

"Yeah, it is."

Connor turned around as the door behind him opened abruptly.

"Hey, Destructo-boy, you coming?" Buffy asked with a glint of excitement in her eyes and a hefty broadsword in her hand, resting over her shoulder. Connor nodded and she disappeared again.

"Well, I gotta go," Connor said to Angel. "I just wanted to say thanks for everything, dad."

"Well, you're, uh, welcome. . . son," Angel's voice sounded slightly hesitant and confused.

"Bye then."

"Bye."

* * *

After Connor hung up, Angel stood still, staring at the phone in his hands.

Suddenly a pair of arms encircled his waist. He put the phone down and slowly turned around in his lover's arms. Then he looked into her eyes and ran his right hand through her blonde hair before capturing her lips in a tender kiss.

"Is there something wrong?" the blonde werewolf asked when she pulled away.

Angel looked down at her thoughtfully.

"I'm not sure."

* * *

Prime Minister Anthony Davidson hurried down the halls of the London military offices, every muscle in his body straining from the effort of not breaking into a run. The cloud of people, both in uniform and not, told him exactly which was the correct office.

Two uniformed officers marked as Royal Military Police stopped him just outside the doors.

"Mister Prime Minister, I'm sorry, but I'm afraid we cannot allow you to enter the crime scene," said one.

The words 'crime scene' made his heart stop. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

"So it's true then," he said.

"I'm afraid so, sir," a voice said loudly from inside the room.

Anthony opened his eyes and looked in at a tall, gangly man wearing a colonel's bird on his uniform. He was eyeing him with narrowed eyes. Slowly he walked towards the door. The two RMP officers guarding the office stepped aside to let him out into the corridor.

"I must confess, Mister Prime Minister, I am rather surprised to see you here in person," the colonel said. "I know we are proceeding here as though this is a crime, but as of right now we have no evidence to actually prove General Tanya Baker did not die of natural causes. I was not aware you knew the general well enough to come running here after learning of her death."

Anthony blinked and then winced as he realized just how odd this must all look.

"We'd been working closely on a project of national security in conjunction with the Home Office," he answered. "I needed to-" He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Her death complicates matters. Although, I suppose, if they were hoping to put a halt to our plans they're a little too late."

He looked into the office again. Apart from the forensic team busily taking samples and snapping pictures of every inch of the room, it didn't look like a person had just died in it. The floor was clean, the shelves and desk neat and orderly except for a pile of papers that been knocked over and scattered on the floor. The body had obviously already been removed, for which Anthony had to admit he was rather grateful.

"Do you know how she died yet?" he asked.

"Not yet. There was no visible cause of death or trauma of any kind, except for the scattered papers, which we think she did herself as she slumped over onto her desk. We're having her blood tested for poison."

Anthony nodded. He hoped they found poison. Mister Giles had told him of the wizard's Killing Curse, which left no trace except for a dead body. If the general's killer was a wizard, he wasn't sure they'd be able to bring them to justice.

"Please let me know what you find out," he said, before turning on his heel.

"Prime Minister Davidson!"

Anthony turned back even as he dug for the borrowed cellphone that was stashed in the pocket of his dress slacks.

"Yes, Colonel?"

The man was watching him with a calculating look on his face.

"Do you have reason to believe this is murder?" he finally asked after a few moments.

"Yes, in fact, I know it is." Anthony saw no point in hiding now. "Unfortunately, unless you can find traces of poison in her blood, I'm not sure there's much you'll be able to do about it. So, good luck, I suppose."

He didn't bother waiting for the colonel to respond, as he was already rushing towards the exit, cellphone in his hand and dialling the first number on the speed dial.

"We have a problem," he said as soon as it was picked up. "General Tanya Baker is dead."

_'Damn, I'm very sorry to hear that,' _said Mister Giles after a slight pause._ 'Well, thankfully everything for today has already been set in motion, so her death, sad as it is, doesn't affect that."_

"Things are going smoothly then?"

_'More or less. I imagine you've been sent a copy of the note sent to the general, but the military managed to evacuate most of the two villages with Xander and the slayers' help. And there are hidden patrols in the approximate area we think they're in.'_

"Good." Anthony stopped and took a deep breath of fresh air, before continuing. He suddenly felt very tired. "I really hope we manage to stop this tonight, but I suppose I should get find out who General Baker's successor is and brief them on the situation."

_'Our goal is to prevent Voldemort's ascension, which has to be done tonight. But the aftermath, if we succeed, won't exactly be easily explained away either.'_

"Right, yes, of course. If you speak to the wizards, could you please let them know that it's possible the general was killed by a killing curse? I mean, it could also be poison, but we won't know for sure until the toxicology report comes back."

_'Is Kingsley Shaklebolt there?'_

Anthony looked to the side, where the wizard in question was following him and listening attentively. He had one hand casually stuffed into his trouser pocket, just ahead of the prime minister's regular bodyguards.

"Yes, he's here."

_'Good. Faith and two of the other girls will be meeting you at Downing Street as added protection.'_

"Oh." Anthony gulped. "D-do you think we'll be a target?"

_'Today, no, I highly doubt it. But it doesn't hurt to be careful.'_

"I see. Well, I'll leave you to it then, shall I?"

_'Very well. Have a good day, Prime Minister.'_

"Yes, you as well. And good luck, Mister Giles."

Anthony hung up and took another, shaky breath, feeling just a smidgen less terrified when he finally entered Downing St. and saw Faith and two girls he somewhat recognized (he had a feeling one of them may have brought him lunch while he was in the Watcher's Council recuperating after the demon attack) standing in the lobby waiting for him.

* * *

"This is madness!" a gruff voice bellowed from somewhere in the main entrance. "I assure you we were all perfectly safe in the Ministry!"

"Yes, this is absolutely preposterous!" a second, higher-pitched voice added. "Moody, you had better have a damned good explanation for all this!"

The group currently eating breakfast in the Great Hall, while going over last-minute notes, all looked up. Harry, Ron and Hermione exchanged annoyed looks.

"Please tell me we're locking whoever those guys are in the dungeons," Connor said. There was slight pause, during which several people snickered. "I mean, you do actually have creepy dungeon-y bits in the 'dungeon' part of the castle, right? It's not just classrooms and dorms, is it?"

"Nope, there are still a few cells down there, for old times sake," said George Weasley (Connor could smell the difference).

"Filch loved showing off the iron chains hanging from the walls," added Fred Weasley.

"Seemed really upset that he wasn't allowed to use them anymore."

"Apparently, Dumbledore had been really strict about tha-"

Suddenly the doors to the Great Hall swung open, admitting in a group of indignant-looking wizards followed by a surlier-than-usual-looking Mad-Eye Moody and Arthur Weasley. The first man through was a rather large man with golden hair littered with greys and a beard that made him look very severe. His first move was to survey the room. His eyes very quickly came to rest on Connor and Willow, who was sitting a bit further up the table and had only briefly raised her head away from the scrolls she and Madame Pomphrey were examining.

"What are these muggles doing here?" the man demanded.

"That's Scrimgeour," Harry whispered to Connor. "The Minister of Magic. The one next to him is the former minister, Cornelius Fudge."

"Ah, politicians," said Connor. "I knew I was right with the dungeons."

"They're here helping us, Minister Scrimgeour," Arthur Weasley began explaining. "You see Willow there works for the Watcher's-"

"Muggles, helping?!" Fudge declared.

A few of the witches and wizards behind him responded with equally outraged exclamations.

"How exactly do you expect muggles to be helpful in a magic war?" Scrimgeour asked, contempt oozing from every word.

Suddenly, something flew past his head, making him jump backwards and squawk in surprise. He looked to his right, his goggling at the very large battle axe that was now _embedded_ into the stone wall.

"Oops, solly, hand slipped," said a soft, feminine voice with a thick, Asian accent.

Connor didn't bother hiding his grin as Xing-li Huang smiled sweetly at the gaping wizards as she walked quickly up the center aisle of the Great Hall and then leapt over the Hufflepuff table, pink pig-tails swaying behind her as she moved. The small, 16-year-old Chinese girl then proceeded to casually walk up to her axe and effortlessly pull it out of the wall – leaving behind a rather noticeable gouge – and then twirled it in her right hand as though it weighed next to nothing, before going back the way she'd come.

She stopped beside Willow and bowed slightly in greeting. Willow grinned back.

"Hey Xing-li," she said. "How was patrol?"

"Vely boling," Xing-li answered with an exaggerated grimace as she absently twirled the axe she had slung over her shoulder. "All bad things lun away. Met half-man, half-hoase. He was...intelesting. Not undestand me."

She shrugged, as though meeting a centaur was a normal, everyday occurrence and it was only a bit disappointing his experience with foreign accents was so limited. Connor chuckled.

"The other slayers are reporting the same," said Andrew, who had been coming up behind Xing-li. They'd been using some sort of back entrance to the Great Hall, which was closer to whatever exit they'd been using to leave the school (in case anyone was watching).

"Lots of creepies and crawlies, but nothing that doesn't belong there," he said.

"How in Merlin's name would you know what's normal in a magical forest?!" the former minister guy tried again.

"Ewoks know how to hide in their own territory," said Andrew sagely.

Harry and Ron blinked and then, as one, looked to Hermione for an explanation. Hermione was frowning. When she realized their eyes were on her she glared at them.

"Oh don't look at me, I have no idea what that means!" she said.

The three of them suddenly remembered Connor's presence in their midst and turned to him for an explanation. Connor shrugged.

"Sorry, I don't do geek-speak," he said.

Which was sort of true: he did know what an ewok was and he could probably hazzard a rough guess as to what Andrew meant by the statement. However, he really didn't feel like trying to explain it to people who'd never seen _Star Wars_ before and probably didn't even know what it was in the first place.

He'd seen Buffy trying to explain cellphones to some of the wizards earlier. No way was he volunteering for that particular brand of torture.

He turned his attention back to where the minister was still whining about being dragged into the relatively-safe magical castle. Moody was trying to temper his growl into something half-polite as he explained what was going on.

"You know I don't mind knocking them all unconscious for you," Connor called out. "We can wake them up when everything's over and let them take over and deal with the political part."

Moody glared at him. Beside him, Harry badly covered up his laughter with a cough.

"Not helping Connor," Hermione admonished him under her breath.

Connor shrugged.

"Just thought I'd throw that out there."

"Typical muggle boorishness," a tall, long-nosed woman that had arrived with the minister said with a sniff of her upturned nose. "Already their propensity for violence makes itself known."

Connor blinked at her.

"Um, lady, last time I checked, this stupid Dark Lord we're helping to fight is one of yours," he said.

"I also must vehemently protest such incorrect sentiments," said Andrew with an air of carefully-cultivated snobbery. "Although, it is true that many of us here have, in fact, tasted the temptation offered by the dark side, I assure you we fought against it and come out victorious in that most difficult of battles of the soul. And in light of these difficult battles of ours, it is also horribly inaccurate of you to refer to us as muggles in the first place as we are warriors for the light side and help those chosen to protect the human race from the forces of the darkness by the Powers that Be!"

Several moments of stunned silence followed Andrew's speech.

"Did anyone manage to follow that?" Harry asked.

"For Merlin's sake, Harry, shut up or he'll start explaining himself!" Ron hissed.

Meanwhile, the twins were looking at Andrew with identical, thoughtful expressions.

"Gred," said George.

"Forge," said Fred.

"There has to be a way for us to use him for a prank."

"Yes, there does."

"Maybe his voice?"

"Or his incomprehensible speech?"

"The hair?"

"No, the hair's fine."

"Hmmm..."

"Mmhmmm..."

Connor chuckled. He'd spent all morning with these two pranksters and he honestly couldn't wait to see what they came up with. He wondered if Angel liked canary – that is, custard - creams...

The Minister of Magic and his retinue were now turning some very interesting shades of red. Oh, and they were screaming again. Something about muggles and laws and useless things like that.

"That's ridiculous!" Harry suddenly yelled. "We didn't break any laws! They already knew about magic and they'd already figured out about Voldemort before they came anywhere near us!"

"They would not have figured anything out on their own had someone not helped them!" Fudge exclaimed. "There is no way any of you can-"

"SILENCE!"

The great hall seemed to vibrate with the force of the single word that echoed like a roar of thunder. Connor smirked. He'd been wondering how long she'd manage to hold her temper. Willow was a lovely, kind and patient woman, unless she was tired, stressed and on a deadline. Which, was evidenced by the magical glow surrounding her as she glowered at the now shocked-speechless wizards.

"We still have several incredibly important problems to solve and not a lot of time to work with, so with all due respect to your magical persons, could you all be silent and let us do our thing!"

The expressions on the ministry peoples' faces was totally worth all the annoyance they'd caused. Connor was still chuckling an hour later when he joined Arthur, his eldest son, Bill, and several other slayers as they apparated to where Buffy was waiting for them, watching the area Draco had indicated on the map as being the approximate edge of the Malfoy Manor grounds.

Once Dawn and her group managed to take down the ward from inside the manor, they'd be able to gain access to the grounds through a side entrance. For now, they just had to wait.

* * *

"Okay, I know this is really bad form, but I kinda wish the evil snakeman would get a move on," said Xander, his voice only slightly whiny.

"I don't care if it's bad form, I agree," said Vi. "All this waiting majorly sucks. What happened to the good ol' days of 'charge first, wait and find out what happens later'?"

"Unfortunately, until Dawn and her group manage to take down the forceshield thing we've got nowhere to charge to, 'cause it's magically invisible."

"Forceshield?" Gwen pipped up with a laugh. "I think you're in the wrong genre there, Xander."

"Eh, whatever." He scanned the square around them. "You know, I gotta say, I'm kinda impressed at how many people opted to stay and help with this ruse."

Vi snorted.

"You mean, how many people the army boys couldn't convince to leave so gave up trying," she said.

"Yeah, them. I mean, take that little old lady over there-" He motioned to the lady in question, who'd just hobbled out of the grocery store carrying a cloth bag containing bread and milk. "She looks like she's older than God and that long coat of hers is weighing her down like a suit of armor, but there she is, going about her daily business, pretending nothing's wrong."

"I wouldn't be underestimating that old bint if I were you," a voice suddenly said from behind them.

Xander and the two slayers turned to face Corporal Lake, who was one of the special forces operatives wandering the village pretending to be a hapless civilian. He grinned at them.

"That's Stella Carson. She's not staggering around because she's old, but because of the two loaded shot guns she's packing under that long coat. Said 'er 'usband was a general and if were going to go join 'im today, she wouldn't be going down easy. Wants a 'ell of a story to tell when she gets there, she said."

Xander stared at the corporal. Then he turned to stare at the old woman, watching as she hobbled slowly across the cobblestone street.

"Wow, that's one scary old lady," he said.

"Yep, sure is," Gwen agreed.

Xander shook his head and looked down at his watch.

"Aaanyway, that's about half an hour we've been sitting here. You girls ready to move on?"

"Totally," said Vi.

"I think I need chocolate," said Gwen.

"Well, then corner store it is!"

After pitstopping at Rickman's Grocery and loading their pockets with much needed energy boosts (the store owner, Robert Rickman, had opted to stay and help with the ruse by running his shop for regular hours... consequently he was in much demand as he was the only shop open in the village and the only supplier of non-army rations), Xander and the slayers made their way to the pub. It was a squat, stone building that claimed to be over 300 years old and looked like it could withstand a direct hit from a missile launched from space. It was called the Crooked Bow, though the cast iron symbol above the door was a dented trumpet.

Xander was determined to figure that one out.

On the inside, the pub was rather classically pub-like: there was a bar with a good-sized television above it slanted at an angle to look outwards, but still enable anyone behind the bar to see it as well, and plenty of solid-looking oak tables surrounded by rather rickety-looking chairs. It was bright in the daylight, but clean, with that unmistakable odor of stale beer, deep frier and last night's stew that clung to its surfaces in such a way that every blind man knew exactly where they'd wandered into the moment they walked through the door.

Today, the Crooked Bow was doubling as headquarters for two squads of the British military, a group from the Watcher's Council and one reporter. Giles and the military commander, Brigadier Benton, were huddled over a map where several of the soldier had earlier pushed two of the pub's tables together. Behind them, Connie Price was watching and listening, glancing occasionally to her cellphone.

They looked up when Xander and the slayers entered.

"All's quiet on the western front!" Xander declared with a grin.

"Except that the manor's to the south, so it doesn't particularly matter what's going on in the west," Vi pointed out.

Xander rolled his eyes.

"Okay, fine, the southern front is quiet too."

"Thank you, Xander," said Giles. "Did you see anyone suspicious walking around?"

"Nope, just us. And one really scary old lady, but she's just the regular kind of scary old lady, not the evil, cook-you-and-eat-your-brains-for-dinner kind of scary old lady."

"Good. Faith called. She says the government is secured and have accepted her as their bodyguard. Apparently she only had to break one wall to get them to listen to her."

The last was said with an amused, Ripper-esque smirk, which Xander gladly echoed.

"Sounds like she had fun."

Connie Price abruptly snapped her tablet cover shut and slid it into her purse.

"Well, thank you, gentlemen for allowing me to listen in and document your behind-the-scenes planning," she said, smiling at Giles and Brigadier Benton. "However, I think I should take a stroll around the village and get a feel for things, perhaps talk to some of the remaining residents."

"Very well," said the Brigadier. "Just do make sure you take cover at the first sign of trouble."

Giles looked at his watch.

"Dawn and her group are scheduled to leave in about half an hour," he said, glancing up at her. "Please do try to be back within an hour. We don't know exactly when Voldemort plans to start the ritual, but Buffy and the Order of the Phoenix will begin their attack as soon as Willow's let them know the barrier is down."

Connie looked at her watch and nodded.

"I'll see you in an hour then," she said before leaving the pub.

Xander shrugged and then turned to Vi and Gwen, motioning to an empty table.

"Well, we might as well have lunch before all the excitement starts."

* * *

Flames roared to life inside the large, stone fireplace that dominated the small, unadorned room inside the Malfoy Manor. It was a room known only to the family, hidden away as it was at the bend of a mostly unused corridor behind a large painting of Vindicus Pius Malfoy. Seconds later, Draco stepped through. He didn't stop to shake any of the soot off his clothes and, instead, immediately crossed to the mahogany bookcase against the wall. It was half-full of what appeared to be travel guides, books on language spells, maps and international directories, some of which were so old and faded, it was impossible to tell what they were supposed to be without opening them.

Brandishing his wand, Draco tapped several of the books in what appeared to be a random order. As soon as he tapped the sixth book, the flames in the fireplace briefly flashed green. Draco let out a breath, relieved he'd remembered the combination correctly. It had been a while since he'd used this fireplace. And even then, he'd been traveling with his parents and they were both written into the wards the same as he was. The combination was to allow strangers through.

The flames shot up blue and Alastor Moody stepped out. Draco automatically stiffened, before forcing himself to relax.

"Well, I see your password worked," the auror commented. He narrowed his eyes at Draco suspiciously. "You never did say what would happen if you got it wrong."

Draco swallowed.

"The fireplace wouldn't allow you to leave," he said. "Anyone following me would get trapped in the flames."

Moody's eye spun widely as it registered the layers and layers of spells and wards inside the small room. Behind him the fireplace proceeded to spit out more people. Draco couldn't help but snicker at Dawn's clumsy stumble.

"Okay, that is definitely one of the weirdest ways to travel ever," she declared.

"Weirder than demon-flame teleport?" Remus asked as he helped her gain her footing.

"Hey you like the teleporting, don't even try to deny it!"

"Wouldn't dream of it."

"You know, I think I'm a bit disappointed," said Charlie Weasley as he looked around the room, following Spike and Azazella as the rear of their infiltration force. "I was expecting something a bit more... lavish with snakes and dragons everywhere."

Draco snorted.

"This is a _secret_ room; it's not exactly designed for entertaining."

Behind Draco's back, Charlie rolled his eyes, which made Dawn giggle. Draco whirled around and looked between the two of them with narrowed, suspicious eyes. Dawn failed to look innocent. Charlie just grinned back winningly.

Just then Spike walked up behind Charlie and slung an arm over the Weasley's shoulders.

"Don't worry, Charlie-boy, me an' Azazella will make sure there's plenty o' excitement even without the snakes and dragons," he said with a fully vamped-out, malicious-looking grin.

Charlie looked into Spike's yellow, inhuman eyes and paled.

"Spike," said Dawn. "Behave."

"What?" Spike stepped back, throwing his arms out in mock-outrage. "I'm just getting to know my partner-in-crime of the hour."

"Just how quickly do you go through partners-in-crime?" Charlie asked, sounding like he wasn't entirely joking.

"Be vigilant and you won't need to care," Moody growled. He then turned to Draco. "Mister Malfoy, is there anything else we need to know before we proceed?"

Draco considered the question carefully. After a moment, he turned to Spike and Charlie.

"Azazella can lead you through the servants' tunnels, so you're not likely to run into any death eaters, but if you happen to come across a ghost of an old lady wandering around, just make sure you're polite to her and compliment her on her dress."

Spike raised an eyebrow. Draco shrugged.

"She's the elderly maiden aunt of a former Lady Malfoy and she can cause quite the ruckus if she feels you've been rude or inconsiderate. Quite the impressive lungs on her, believe me."

"We'll believe you," said Charlie immediately. "And hope we never get the chance to verify it."

"That's all I can think of that Azazella wouldn't know."

"Well, then off we go!" Spike declared, striding forward happily.

"Wait!" Draco exclaimed, quickly rushing to beat Spike to the door. "There's a password to get into the manor."

"There's a password to connect to the room through the floo network, a password in order to allow others to enter, who aren't keyed into the wards and then _another_ password to enter the manor?!" Remus stared at Draco, incredulously.

Draco shrugged.

"My ancestors were nothing if not paranoid." He then turned to the painting, where Vindicus Pius Malfoy was snoring away silently. "Honeysuckle."

The painting opened.

"Honeysuckle?" Dawn asked. "Really?"

"I have no idea," said Draco.

"Well, it's certainly not anything I'd guess," said Remus.

They slowly slunk into the corridor, eyes and ears sharp for movement. At the first junction, they moved to separate. Just before they left, Spike turned back, looking serious.

"Oi, Wolf, Eye," he called out in a whisper. Both Remus and Moody stiffened and then turned to face the vampire. Moody's glare should've been lethal. "Take care of the bit."

They nodded.

"Good luck you lot," said Remus.

"You too," said Spike.

And then Spike, Charlie and Azazella – looking like Angela in order to hide her magic – went around the corner and Draco turned to lead Dawn, Alastor Moody and Remus Lupin in the other direction.

Draco led them down a rather twisted, narrow corridor until they reached a much wider, brighter hallway covered in thick, plush dark red carpet. At the end of the corridor, he paused and cautiously looked both ways. Moody automatically took position across from him.

"Looks like it's all clear," he whispered.

Draco nodded. Then he placed a hand on top of the black marble dragon statue standing just in front of him, as though guarding the entrance to the corridor they were in, and ran his hand down its head, neck and half-way down its back.

Without so much as a single creak, a section of the stone masonry beside him swung inwards like a door. He smirked at his companions' surprised looks before slipping into the passageway. They followed. Once they were all in, Draco waved his wand and whispered a spell. The stone door closed just as silently as it had opened.

"Okay, that was cool," said Dawn softly once it'd closed completely, leaving no sign it was there at all.

"These passageways run through most of the manor," said Draco. "They're also covered in silencing charms, so we can be as loud as we want and no one will hear us."

"Well isn't that convenient," said Moody, looking annoyed.

Draco smirked, before moving on.

"You didn't think the Ministry had managed to find all our secrets, did you?"

Moody snorted.

"Of course not. And I hardly think you're about to show us all the ones they missed now, helping or not."

"Naturally."

"How exactly can you tell where we are in the manor?" Remus asked, curiously. "Is it just familiarity with the corridors?"

Draco was silent for a few moments, before he stopped in front of a section of the wall and pointed downwards, to the left.

"This leads to the lower level of the library."

They looked to where he was pointing and saw that one of the stones at the base of the wall had a single embossed 'L' engraved on it.

"Clever."

"It was a rather popular way to build wizarding residences at the time the manor was being built. Of course, to get in you have to know where the entrances are and how to open them."

"I suppose this explains how all the dark arts books can suddenly vanish out of your library whenever aurors come to search for them," said Moody, although he only sounded slightly annoyed about it.

"Oh no, there's a different trick behind that one."

The smug smile on Draco's face was wiped off by an intense glare from Moody. He quickly looked away, but didn't elaborate on the 'trick'. Behind the two of them, Dawn and Remus exchanged amused looks.

They came to a spiral staircase leading up. It was by far the most elaborate thing they'd seen inside the secret passages. The steps themselves were made of a dark-stained oak with silver detailing embossed into the wood in the shape of the Malfoy family crest. A thick, black iron banister ran along the steps, shaped to look like it had a snake winding around it, its head hissing at them from the edge of the railing. They went up the stairs, which must've gone up at least two levels.

Finally, Draco stopped in front of a section of the wall and paused.

"This is going to take us to one of the ladies sitting rooms just above the ballroom," he explained. "We could go straight into the ballroom, however..."

"Too risky, this is better," said Moody.

Draco nodded and then pointed his wand at the wall. He whispered an unlocking spell and, once again, a door made up of masonry opened up. They walked into a room bathed in sunlight that smelt of flowers and strawberries.

Dawn gasped. Compared to the dark tones of what she'd seen in the rest of manor (which admittedly was probably the drabbest part of it), it was like entering another world. There was a large, white marble fireplace along one wall with a small seating area in front of it: beige cushioned chairs covered in small, blue flowers and an antique pinewood coffee table with brightly-coloured peacocks painted onto its top. As she walked through the room, her shoes sank into the lush, rose wool carpet.

Moody and Remus took over once they reached the hallway and Draco had explained exactly where they were going. The veteran auror led the way as they snuck through the hallway, with Remus taking the rear and Dawn and Draco between them. Dawn had her sword drawn. Without the speed and strength of either a slayer or a vampire, she knew she wouldn't be able to do much against the wizard's magic, but she could at least do enough to distract any death eaters they came across so that the others could take them down.

And perhaps she'd even manage a little bit of surprise magic of her own. Being an Ancient had to come with some sort of perks, right?

Dawn dismissed those thoughts from her mind. She needed to concentrate on what they were doing, not mope about things she couldn't change. She was a Scoobie; she could do this. Hell, even Draco was holding things together and he was working to take down his ancestral home.

And, she had to admit, it was a very impressive home.

"You know, gotta thank whoever it was that put in all these carpets all over the place," she whispered to Draco. "Makes sneaking around way easier."

"That was my grandfather," Draco whispered back. "He was rather fond of carpets."

"That he was, however, I feel I must correct your mistaken impression that they make sneaking easier."

All four of them whirled around at the voice. It took them a few moments to locate its source. In fact, it was when Lucius Malfoy stepped out of the shadows of an alcove they hadn't even noticed until he stepped out of it.

"Damn," muttered Draco, "I forgot about that alcove."

"Evidently," Lucius said dryly as he leaned against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest. His eyes slid over to Dawn, who tightened her grip on her sword. "And to answer your question, young lady, the carpets may muffle the noise of your footsteps, however they also serve to hide the sigils drawn onto the floor with the express purpose of notifying the head of the house to trespassers in several of the wings."

"What? Why didn't I know about this?!" Draco demanded.

His father smirked.

"You didn't think you knew everything there was to know about this house, did you?"

Remus groaned.

"I think this house is going to give me a headache soon," he told Dawn out of the corner of his mouth.

"Right there with ya," Dawn answered him, before continuing more loudly. "Draco, I think it's safe to say your family takes paranoid to an almost unhealthy extreme."

Draco made a face, which could've been interpreted as a sort of reluctant agreement. Lucius snorted.

"It's been invaluable whenever the Ministry's decided to preform a surprise raid."

Dawn noticed the change in his expression only seconds before the elder Malfoy moved. She wasn't the only one. When Lucius enveloped his son in a hug there were two wands and a sword pointed at him. Draco's eyes widened and he froze for a several moments, before relaxing and returning the embrace.

With a small smile, Dawn, too, relaxed and stepped back as she lowered her sword. She exchanged looks with Remus, who also took a step back.

"You're alright," they heard Lucius whisper to Draco. "I'm so glad Severus was right."

"Severus?" Remus said with a frown. "How could Severus have known?"

"Cordy probably told him," said Dawn with a shrug.

"That having been said..." Lucius suddenly cut the embrace short, pushing Draco back, but grabbing him by the shoulders so that he was looking him in the eyes. "What in Merlin's name are you doing back here?! Do you have any idea what the Dark Lord will do to you if he finds you here?!"

Draco blinked, surprised by the abrupt change in conversation. Then he shook his head.

"You wouldn't have sent me that message if you hadn't expected me to pass it on to my new-found allies," Draco said, his voice betraying some nervousness, but otherwise steady.

Moody snorted.

"Ah, yes, your allies," Lucius drawled. He straightened, his knuckles relaxing their hold on his son, and then looked past him to sneer at Moody and Remus, until he stopped at Dawn. Her, he looked at thoughtfully. "You're from Sunnydale, California."

"Formerly," Dawn answered. "There's not much living there nowadays; it's sort of a big crater now."

The corners of his mouth twitched with amusement.

"Indeed. I take it you knew it was a hellmouth then?"

Dawn grinned. "Yup! It was underneath the high school. You should've seen the ancient vampire army that tried to crawl its way out before we shut it down for good!"

Lucius' eyes widened.

"I heard parts of the story when I was in America recruiting," he whispered.

"Which is all well and good, but we've not got the time to be chattering away," Moody growled. He stepped up to Lucius and jabbed his wand against the blond's neck. "I've no idea why you sent yer son that message and I don't much care. S'far as I'm concerned, you're still the enemy and this could all be a trap."

"Alastor!" Remus exclaimed.

"No, wait!" Draco cried out, moving with a speed acquired by fear for his father's life.

He pushed his way between Moody's wand and his father, forcing both men to back away a step, surprise visible on both their faces. The determination on Draco's face made even Moody pause.

"This entire operation was possible only because of the information Snape and my father were able to get to us," he said. "I'm not saying it makes up for anything my father did, but at least you could, I mean, he didn't have to send anything..."

As Draco's speech floundered, Dawn saw the tenderness and pride that flashed across his father's face. It made up her mind. With a slight nod to herself, she stepped forward.

"We're here to take down the wards," she told Lucius, whose head snapped to her.

Moody growled something at her, but she ignored him. Lucius' eyes narrowed, as though trying to figure out the hidden meaning behind her words.

"We know what Voldemort's planning to do today," she continued. "He's going to preform an ascension to become a pure demon of the sorts that were banished from this world millenia ago. And we know he's got himself some sort of new allies helping him."

Lucius nodded. "They call themselves the Circle of the Black Thorne."

"That's what we figured. Anyway, what we've also got is an army: part magical, part not and part Slayer. What we need is for those pretty new wards Voldemort recently got as a present to vanish."

"You realize if this is a trap, you've just handed him all the information he needs," said Moody as he glared holes into her skull.

Dawn glared back, suddenly feeling fiercely protective of her choice and determined on Draco's behalf that she was going to be right.

"Look, I'm sure this guy's done a lot of really bad things, horrible things. But guess what? So's Spike and Willow and Connor and, oh hell, even Giles has a not-so-nice past, which, yeah okay is like baby pretend evil next to the others, but still. And let's not start on Connor's father – and mother, come to think of it..." She stopped herself and shook her head. "Sorry, I'm getting off-topic here. The point is that he's not a monster and even if he was, he's Draco's father."

She then shrugged.

"Besides, it's not like I've told him everything or even anything super-specific."

She looked between Remus and Moody, imploring them to understand. However, a snicker from Lucius had them all turning to him in astonishment.

"Well put, young lady, well put," he said with a smile. He turned to his son. "Apparently, you have either better luck or at the very least a better instinct for people than I ever had. Take after your mother, I imagine."

He placed a hand on Draco's shoulder.

"I'm proud of you, son."

Dawn smiled at the way Draco's eyes widened and the smile that spread across his face. Lucius smiled back at his son. Then he cleared his throat and stepped back.

"I assume you were planning to head to the ballroom through the main hallway," he said, suddenly all business.

"Yes, father."

"Then take the fireplace instead and I'll clear some of the way for you."

Draco frowned. "Are you sure you want Ministry aurors to-"

"Not particularly, no, but I want the Dark Lord to succeed even less. I'm not saying I believe in the ministry or any of their silly muggle-loving sycophants, however, as your friend Dawn has so succinctly pointed out, the Dark Lord's plans are not conducive to either my ideals or to you. Helping you and subsequently the Order of the Phoenix is, how shall I put it..."

"The lesser of two evils?" Dawn suggested.

Lucius nodded. "Indeed."

With one, last look in Draco's direction, Lucius passed them in a swish of robes and then strode confidently down the hallway towards the stairs.

"I really hope this isn't going to be something we regret," Remus said quietly.

"Yeah, me too," said Dawn. Then she shrugged. "You know, if worse comes to worst, I can just call for Azazella. I mean, the only reason we're not just doing that now is because she knows the servant passageways and how to get to the dungeons. Plus, we want to keep our little infiltration quiet for as long as possible."

"Yes, I'd much rather not have to rely on her strength," said Remus, looking a bit green just at the thought of letting her go rampaging.

"Right then, where is this fireplace entrance?" Moody asked Draco.

Draco took a deep breath and walked back the way they'd just come from. They followed him until he stopped in front of a large, hall mirror in a heavy gold frame decorated with golden leaves and branches bearing fruit and nuts: mostly apples, pears and hazelnuts. Draco's eyes turned to the left hand side of the frame and his left hand came up to examine it. Then he used his thumb to press down on the one, lonely walnut hanging next to an apple.

The mirror swung out to reveal a short passage.

"I have to go last," said Draco. "Just touch the griffin statue half-way down."

"Griffin statue, got it," said Dawn, entering first.

The passageway was narrow with naked stone on either side of her, but it was clean, as though someone actually took care of it and swept it every once in a while. Or, she supposed, sent a house elf to do it. The griffin statue, as it turned out, was actually only about five steps into the passage. She looked behind her to make sure the others were coming and then touched the statue.

No sooner had she touched it, she felt a sharp tug around her navel, which then seemed to envelop her entire body, sending her into a dizzy spin she had to shut her eyes against. It only lasted a few seconds, but it still sent her reeling and she fought back nausea with deep breaths. She let go of the statue and stumbled backwards, aiming for the opposite wall she knew was there.

Suddenly, she was caught by a pair of strong hands. Dawn's eyes snapped open, her body automatically twisting to get away and prepare to defend herself.

"Dawn, Dawn, relax, it's alright, it's just me."

Dawn relaxed as she recognized Remus' voice. Then she noticed her surroundings. The narrow passageway was gone and instead they were standing in a small room. There was a small polished table with two wooden, padded chairs on either side of it and a low hutch made of polished wood bearing a decanter filled with a caramel brown liquid and surrounded by several stout crystal glasses on short stems. Next to the hutch sat an identical griffin statue to the one that had been in the passageway.

"Draco really should've warned you about the portkey," Remus said, disapproval in his voice. "It can be a bit harrying the first time around."

"Huh?" was all Dawn could manage.

"Well, this certainly explains a lot," she heard Moody grumble.

Dawn looked to her left where the auror was looking out through what looked like a face-shaped indent in the wall. Then she realized the wall behind her was concave, eating a half-circle out of the small room. The peep-holes Moody was looking out of were at the base of the curve, which didn't actually extend to the end of the walls, but rather to a foot on either end of the wall.

"Okay, so what exactly happened?" Dawn finally asked.

"The griffins were connected portkeys that transported you from that passageway upstairs to this room, which I assume is somewhere near the ballroom," said Remus.

"By my guess, we're directly behind that huge fireplace that's inside the ballroom," Moody added.

Just then Dawn heard a faint pop. She turned in time to see Draco take his hand from the griffin statue. Then he walked to the other side of the curve (which Dawn now assumed was the fireplace) and stared at the wall. Dawn had to walk around the rounded wall to see he was looking into another set of peepholes.

"So what are we dealing with?" Dawn asked.

"There's about four death eaters in the room that I can see," said Moody.

"I think there's a fifth in the side antechamber," Draco added. "I think I saw movement there."

"Hmph, there could be more than one there."

"Probably."

"Has Lucius Malfoy arrived yet?" Remus asked.

"If he arrives, you mean," said Moody.

"He will," said Draco.

"Can I see?" Dawn asked, coming up behind Draco.

Draco moved to the side and Dawn leaned down to look through the eyeholes. From where she was, she could tell the ballroom was massive. She also realized Draco had been right: any surprise attack would only have limited success, because the area was so large that the death eaters would have plenty of room to maneuver even if they didn't really have anything to hide behind. She couldn't see the walls clearly, but even the vague, blurry images she had told her the room was grand and impressive. From what little she could glimpse, even the ceiling was painted.

The doors on the far left opened and Dawn watched Lucius stride into the room, the arrogance in his stride a more mature version of Draco's own.

"Oh, there's your dad, Draco," she announced.

"Good," said Draco. "Mr. Lupin, I'll open the fireplace when the time comes. It opens slowly, so either you or Mr. Moody will have to be the first one through as I'm assuming you don't want it to be Dawn."

"Here, Remus, you take over watching," Moody declared. "I'll be the first one through. Just let me know what's going on."

"Looks like Lucius is ordering a few of them out," said Dawn as she watched Lucius announce something and then wave arrogantly at the door.

The death eaters looked at each other uneasily, but then Lucius sneered at them and they scurried away out the doors. Lucius waited a few moments, meandering around and looking bored. Then he swung around and aimed a spell at the nearest remaining death eater.

"He's taken one out!" Dawn exclaimed.

"He's started!" Remus echoed her. "Open the fireplace!"

Draco tapped the griffin statue with his wand.

"Ouvrir," he said.

Dawn couldn't help herself. As Moody rushed through the opening that was slowly appearing to them, she looked back at Draco.

"Really?" she said. "After all those complicated, weird passwords, this one's just 'open' in French?!"

Draco shrugged, only half paying attention to her. His face was pinched with worry. Remus ran out after Moody. Dawn followed, with Draco at her heel.

In the ballroom, Dawn caught a glimpse of flying dragons on the walls, but paid them no heed as she took one look around and, seeing that the older wizards had things well in-hand, ran to the pedestal standing at the centre of the room containing the statuette Draco had mentioned. According to Lori's research, it was most likely holding the ward together.

"Dawn, get down!" she suddenly heard Draco yell behind her.

Without bothering to look around, Dawn dropped into a roll, which she came out of into a crouch.

"Protego!" she heard Draco chant.

She looked to her right just as a spell hit Draco's magical shield. Draco grit his teeth against the impact, but the shield held. Dawn looked to where the spell came from and, sure enough, there was a single wizard standing at the entrance to an antechamber along the side of the ballroom.

Just then, another spell hit the wizard from the side and he collapsed. Moody rushed up to stand next to Draco, wand drawn as he scanned the rest of the room.

Dawn rose to her feet and ran the rest of the way to the statuette. She raised her sword and then brought it down with all her might.

There was a bright flash of light.

* * *

Down in the Malfoy dungeons, Azazella looked up from where she'd been observing the young dragon tamer affixing a small portkey to the dirty lapel of a grey-haired man's suit, who watched them through glossy, unfocused eyes.

"They have succeeded," she said. "The wards blanketing magic have fallen."

"Well that's good to 'ear," Spike called from further on in the dungeon.

There followed a series of bangs, clangs and crashes, which made Charlie wince and Azazella stoicly incline her head in their direction. Charlie stood in the silence that followed and flicked his wand as he muttered the incantation to activate the portkey. The 'pop' of the portkey winking away to Saint Mungo's was drowned out by a final, though much quieter, crash.

Charlie inched out of the cell and into the dungeon passage.

"Everything alright there, Spike?" he called out.

The vampire's head popped out from the next cell.

"Just figured we should get a move on," he said with a wide grin, not even pretending to hide that expediency wasn't his only reason. "The Circle's bound to notice their fancy statue things 'ave stopped working."

Charlie frowned. "But the cells are magicked close."

"Yeah, but the 'inges aren't."

Charlie wisely decided not to comment any further and just got on with it, removing another portkey from the bag slung over his shoulder.

* * *

As Willow concentrated on the map spread out before her in the Great Hall, watching the brightly-lit dots on the map like a red-headed hawk, a dark area on the map suddenly began to shimmer. The witch tensed, then began to smile as the area lit up with light nearly as bright as the undefined glow in Scotland representing Hogwarts.

She looked up at the people assembled around her. Most of them hadn't noticed anything had happened yet. However, the one she needed to had. Willow looked at the girl sporting a green mohawk, whose eyes were watching her intently, body poised for action despite the haphazard way she was sitting with one leg up on the Hufflepuff table.

"The wards are down," Willow announced. "Mila, let Giles and Buffy know they can start the attack."

The girl jumped to her feet in an instant, reaching for the cellphone in her pocket even as she sprinted out of the hall towards the boundaries of the Hogwarts grounds and its magical interference.

* * *

The light was so blinding and disorientating that Dawn didn't even feel herself being flung backwards. Suddenly, she heard someone speaking to her and shaking her. She looked up to see four faces looking down at her. It took her a few moments to see past the bright spots in front of her eyes and recognize Draco and Remus as the two closest and then Moody and Lucius further up.

"I really hope this means it's been destroyed," she said, blinking madly to get rid of the stars.

Remus smiled.

"Yes, Dawn, the statuette's now several smaller pieces, which means the wards should be down."

"Oh good, 'cause I really don't wanna do that again."

Someone snorted in amusement. Dawn was pretty sure it was Lucius.

Remus helped her stand up and held on as her head began to suddenly spin. When she opened her eyes again, she looked around the room, taking stock of the incapacitated death eaters and the broken pieces of statuette littering the ground. She also finally took the time to really see the beautifully-painted dragons (moving, of course) on the walls. She smiled; it was truly beautiful.

Then she saw the a man step out of the antechamber and cast a sickly-green spell.

"Look out!" she screamed.

The spell hit Moody just as he was turning around. The auror stiffened and then fell to the ground.

"Alastor!" Remus exclaimed, but his wand was steadily pointed at the new wizard.

"Well, if it isn't my dear brother-in-law," Lucius sneered, stepping forward, so that he was shielding Draco with his body.

"Lucius, what a pleasure to be the product of your demise," the dark wizard sneered back.

"I doubt very much you have the intelligence necessary for that."

"Thankfully it won't take much. There's already a messenger on his way to the Dark Lord to inform him of your treachery."

Lucius stiffened.

Just then the doors to the ballroom opened.

"Malfoy's going mad," one death eater declared. He looked like a rather large, beefy man.

"Avery didn't need us at the gates at all," the other one said. "He got that help hours a-"

Dawn exchanged a wide-eyed look with Draco.

Before either of the death eaters had a chance to properly take in the scene, Remus swung around, pointed his wand at them and cast. The smaller one went flying backwards, hitting his head on the solid, oak doors and crumbling to the floor in a heap of black robes. Draco then raised his wand and cast a spell at the other, who easily blocked it. Dawn transferred her sword into her left hand and reached for the dagger strapped to her thigh.

She glanced behind her. Lucius seemed to be taking care of his brother-in-law well enough. Then she looked to the doors, where Remus – with some help from Draco – were exchanging spells with the second death eater. Unfortunately, the death eater had had the presence of mind to open the oak doors and was using them as a shield.

Then the doors suddenly slammed shut.

"Dammit!" Remus exclaimed and ran over to the doors. "Draco, tie this one up!" He called out, motioning to the death eater slumped against the door. He looked like he was starting to stir again.

Remus threw the door open as he went running out the door.

Draco did as he was told and cast some a few spells at the slumped death eater. Meanwhile, Dawn turned to where Lucius was still trading spells with the other wizard. To Dawn, they seemed evenly matched, though Lucius' hair was beginning to come out of its tie.

Then the dark-haired wizard caught Dawn's eye. He laughed and Dawn froze, recognizing the look in his eyes. Angelus had had it. Darth Willow had had it. Sometimes, Spike's eyes showed a glimpse of it. This wizard loved causing harm for the fun of it.

"Avada kadavra!" he called loudly.

"Protego adfirmo!" Lucius called back and a visible circular shield appeared in front of him, causing the spell to rebound.

The other wizard leapt out of the way of the spell and then cast another, which hit Lucius in the leg. Lucius howled in pain and crumbled to his knees.

"Confundio!"

Lucius' waved his wand, looking around himself wildly, as though trying to figure out where to aim it at.

"Finite Incan-" Draco began, before collapsing with a scream of agony.

It was a scream Dawn recognized.

"Now, now, my dear nephew," the dark wizard said. "Can't have you interfering."

Dawn threw her knife. It hit the man in the shoulder.

Unfortunately, it seemed Draco's uncle could take pain almost as well as he could give it, as all Dawn got out of him was a grunt and a hiss of pain. He turned furious eyes on her.

"Do you wish to take his place, Muggle?" he hissed at her through gritted teeth.

"Leave him alone!" Dawn screamed at him.

She looked down at Draco, who was still screaming. His wand lay forgotten on the ground as his hands were grabbing at his chest, looking like he wanted claw out whatever was causing him so much pain. Dawn knelt down and grabbed his arms to stop Draco from harming himself.

She felt helpless.

She felt angry. She looked up at the dark wizard, suddenly feeling absolutely furious at him for hurting her friend.

The wizard laughed at her.

Dawn felt her face heat up, then she felt the heat spread to her entire body. It was as though her anger had become a hot lava infusing her blood.

Suddenly, the wizard stopped laughing.

Dawn didn't think of anything expect how much she wanted him to stop, to be gone.

For a split second the wizard's eyes widened. Then he was flying backwards, towards the wall. He hit it with a sickening crunch.

There was a moment of silence as Draco's screams suddenly cut off. The hot anger that had infused Dawn's veins quickly dissipated as she stared at the wizard, surprised by what she'd managed to do. She couldn't think of anything else to do but stare as he slowly opened his eyes. He looked at her with a bewildered sort of anger. His wand lifted.

"Avada kadavra," a cold voice said.

The wizard's body stiffened and then slumped.

Lucius Malfoy was suddenly beside her. Absently, she assisted as they helped Draco sit up and then Lucius got his son to drink a potion of some sorts. Her stupor was broken when Remus ran in again.

"Bloody hell, I don't know if you felt that in here, but I think Spike's group must've run into trouble, because I'm sure I just felt Azazella use her powers," he said, sounding out of breath.

"That wasn't Azazella," said Dawn, not meeting anyone's eyes.

"Excuse me?"

No one answered him, until finally Lucius spoke up. Draco taken care of, he was now watching Dawn with thoughtful amazement.

"I have no idea what happened back there," he said softly. "But that power... that was Dawn."

"Looks like you're not a one-trick pony after all," Draco rasped.

Dawn met his eyes and chuckled dryly.

"Guess not."

* * *

In the middle of the Malfoy Manor grounds, just off to the side of the gardens and somewhere between the pond and the former dragon pens, an area approximately the size of the manor's ballroom had been cleared of its lush grass. In the centre of this clearing, a circle had been drawn in blood. Just outside the circle, Lady Zhur presented Lord Voldemort with a smoking goblet.

Dozens of robed death eaters looked on as their lord and master smiled. Some of them occassionally shot nervous glances at the imposing demon soldiers standing still as statues behind them. In the distance, more death eaters could be seen herding the hapless, confused former inhabitants of Avebury towards the clearing.

Master McNab watched the proceedings with amusement. Despite his acceptance of the Circle of the Black Thorne's help, all four of them knew Voldemort didn't trust them. He understood full well they weren't helping him out of the goodness of the hearts they no longer possessed. So preoccupied he'd been with watching for the moment of their betrayal, it had failed to occur to him that they were like Shylock.

And, when the time came, they would take their pounds of flesh.

Then the wind suddenly changed, bringing with it a faint echo of magic: a sharp breeze of power, ancient, yet somehow muffled, as though incomplete – perhaps restrained.

The amusement vanished from the mage's face as his eyes snapped to look in the direction of the manor. His eyes narrowed before he looked back to the clearing and met the confused eyes of his associates. Confusion was not something they could afford, not now.

It wasn't a complicated decision. He was the one least needed for the ritual, so with a nod of agreement, Master McNab turned with a slight bounce to his step and sauntered towards the manor.

On his way, he passed a young death eater, who was running full-tilt in the opposite direction.

* * *

Well, I believe it's taken me nearly seven years, but here we finally have our heros fighting Voldemort directly. Part 2 may take me a while to get out, although I do have quite a sizeable chunk of it written already. However, I've also just signed up to do the Merlin Big Bang which will take up quite a bit of my writing time from now on until August. I will try to get the next chapter of this finished as quickly as I can though simply on account of not wanting you guys to wait too long with this cliffhanger...

Please read and review!


End file.
